On The Shores of Ursius
by PaxtonProphet
Summary: (Re-written) Stricken with grief over the loss of his mother, Frederick Fazbear is forced into a quest to teach him some empathy, but fate rarely bends around the whims of mortals.
1. Prologue

"You worry too much." The grizzly's voice was stern and just. She knew he spoke the truth, but could quell her splashing blood. "It's not good for the Cub, Gaia." The Male Grizzly before Gaia, a female with cub near eight months, was her husband, Gerard. He was dark furred, contrasted to his wife's light caramel coat, and very spry. His eyes glowed grey in the moon which hit the deck of their current residence upon the merchant ship named 'The Moore Runner.' They were just leaving port near the island of Solace, headed home to Ursius for their people's spirit festival. Gaia had hoped to leave sooner than they had, but having her in her current state made finding safe arrangements difficult for Gerard. Thankfully, their family friend, Oslow, was leaving for Ursius on his own vessel and his trustworthiness beside his long term care for the family made everything better.

Gaia rested against the wooden rail, staring out into the endless abyss of ocean. "I know," she breathed, "But I don't like sailing. You know this. The cub doesn't like it either. He kicks hard every night we spend aboard a ship, be it your fishing dingy or this old heap." She patted the rail gruffly before turning towards the hatch that lead down below deck. "I haven't slept in days because of him. I'm sure he's just as tired. How much longer, Gerard?" Gerard wished he could soothe his wife beyond reassurance, but he couldn't. They still had near a week aboard 'The Moore Runner.'

"I wish I could advance time, love. We have many days longer. We'll be home for the festival, though. I promise you that."

"And you've yet to break a promise, but I don't care if we make it for the festival. I want our cub to be born where I was. He deserves to have his first memories be of home, not some rolling boat in the middle of the ocean."

"You still have some weeks to go, Gaia."

"You heard what Mother Caroline said. He's ready to be born. The normal term of pregnancy doesn't at all matter after the fifth month." Gerard sighed, wrapping a gentle arm about his wife's frame. He rested a paw atop her swollen belly just to feel a bump from his yet to be born son. In honesty, Gerard didn't care where the cub was born. He simply wanted to see him, more so sooner than later, yet he knew how much the birth being on Ursius mattered to Gaia. He'd do what he could to make it happen. A cool breeze grazed the deck and Gaia found herself wrapping her blue shaw about her shoulders and white dress. Her azure eyes fluttered closed as she nuzzled deep into her husband's fluff.

"We should get below. Perhaps he's calm enough tonight to let us both sleep?" Gaia felt a soft scrape from inside her and laughed.

"I don't think so. He's as edgy as his father." Gerard merely rolled his eyes and hugged Gaia's shoulders, leading her down below deck where a few other passengers were stowed. The Moore Runner was a smaller vessel and couldn't house more than a few. Besides the Crew, there were about five other passengers making the trip to Ursius. One was a white Vixen, older and fidgety with her paws. She wore a grey dress, very worn, and traveled with a younger Vixen of the same color. Their resemblance aroused the idea of them being mother and daughter. Another passenger was a black bear who had introduced himself as 'Blake.' He was a calm and collected young cub who found comfort around Oslow, Gaia, and Gerard. He could strike civilized conversation about a variety of topics and Gaia found herself always interested in his stories. Gerard didn't pay him much attention, but would sit and listen from time to time. Finally, there was a Brown female Shepherd with her little puppy. The mother's name was Sheila and her son was Mike. Mike was only two, but loved to feel Gaia's stomach and wait for the cub to kick or move. He'd squeal and giggle when he did, which always brought a joyful spark to Gaia's eyes. She hoped her son would be that way, loving, energetic, and gleeful.

They proceeded below deck to their small area where a hammock had been set up for Gaia as to ease the tension on her back. On the floor close by was a cot for Gerard so that he was in arms reach of his wife. Gaia gladly climbed into her spot and Gerard slowly into his place by her.

"Not hungry, love?" The sudden question startled Gaia from her thoughts. She held her spoon above her plate of candied yams and carrots, letting it hover there while she day-dreamed. Gaia laughed softly, jabbing the silverware into her meal.

"Oh, sorry Gerard. I was just thinking." Gerard raised a brow.

"About what, love?"

"Many things. Mainly about how, maybe, it would be nice... if our cub was born before the festival. Don't you think it's be wonderful for him to see it all? And then, I was also thinking about... names... We haven't settled on one and I'm so close, Gerard. Why is that?" Gerard put his spoon down and clasped a paw over Gaia's which now rested on the table.

"Nothing suiting has come to us. Many things need to be considered when thinking of names, Gaia. We want his name to suit him, suit the way he looks and the personality he has. It's already been established that he's very restless, like me, but his looks might not agree with any named from my family line."

"Do we have to follow that trend?"

"What trend?"

"Naming cubs after which parent they are most like. What if I'd much rather have a name that isn't in our family histories, but it suits him perfectly?"

"Do you have any such names in mind, love?" Gaia sat in thought for the longest time, picking up her spoon once more and spinning it between her pads. That type of fiddling always helped her thoughts. After a while, she set the object down.

"Maybe Gabriel, or Luis, or..." She stopped, a gentle smile creeping across her muzzle. "Frederick... I think I actually like that one..." Gerard rolled his silver eyes.

"Gods, there was never a name I hated more. Every person I have ever met with the name Frederick has been bitter and ill-tempered." Gaia snarled at him.

"Just coincidence. It's all about life experiences." She stopped and ran her paw over her stomach. "I promise, I'll never let terrible things happen to you, my dear." Gerard sighed, knowing how his wife's heart functioned. When she set her mind and her heart to something, there was no turning her around. This very trip proved just that, not that Gerard needed any convincing after three years of binding to the female grizzly.

"If it's what you want, love." Gaia grinned in victory.

"So, Frederick it is."

"Don't expect me to embrace it." Gaia snarled at him again.

"You better just as you'll embrace HIM." Gerard knew when to back down. There was no getting around Gaia. The male grizzly merely sighed, kissing the female's muzzle before returning to his meal. Gaia held her head high in pride, digging her spoon into the candied yams and swallowing a greedy mouthful. Gerard rolled his eyes and finished what was left on his plate before scooting it away. Gaia followed soon after, finishing her meal in record time. Oslow, a white bear and captain of the vessel, laughed at her new sense of vigor and went to sit in front of the couple.

"Why so prideful, Gaia?" he asked, a thick south-Solace accent staining his tongue. Gaia grinned at him, holding her chin to the clouds.

"I named my cub."

"Really?"

"Yes, to my husbands disdane, his name is Frederick." Oslow slowly shook his head, eyeing Gerard. The male grizzly only shrugged, scraping his claws along the wooden table top. "Where are we right now, Oslow?" The polar bear straitened.

"Well, we shouldn't be far off from Ursian waters, but we still have some days to go before reaching port. Do you think he can wait that long?"

"I hope so," said Gaia, continuously stroking her stomach. Oslow, took up both plates from the table and walked them over to the Chef, who was a young crow, newly appointed to The Moore Runner and going through his ranks. Gaia couldn't remember his name, something along the lines of Cable, or Cade, but it didn't really matter. The boy wasn't a kind young one. He seemed ever bitter and showed great disdane for everyone besides himself and a select few. Oslow was one of those select few as the crow showed a grudging respect for him. He took the plates and tossed them into a bucket of sud to be washed along with the other wares used by the crew and other passengers.

Gaia stood, slowly righting herself and finding quick balance on the rolling ship floor. Before Gerard could even stand to help her, the female was already to the stairs and making her way above deck. Though she hated sailing, Gaia would have much rather been above deck than below. Below was so dingy and smelled of oils. Many of the crew that found refuge there were often stench riddled, adding to the wafting concoction which insulted her muzzle. At least above deck she could see the sky and smell fresh air, albeit salty. When she set paw on deck, her lungs filled with a bundle of light, cool air. It made her smile and even relaxed her as much as it could with her blunt dislike of the ocean. It wasn't really the ocean she disliked, to be honest. She didn't like sailing on it. For looks and swimming, it was a lovely thing, but when it came to small boats trudging through the open waters with little protection aside from a few cannons that would do little against a Man-o-War class, she felt overly exposed and more close to death than she could in a cellar full of gun wielding drunks. The most worrying part of it all was that Man-o-War classes were becoming more and more common among pirates. Be it that they acquire them legally, which was rare, or stole them from their rightful crew, Pirates were getting ahold of these powerful monsters of the seas and that made water travel overly hazardous. Had she not been with cub, Gaia could have braved through the worries, but now she was holding out for more lives than her own. Yes, she worried just as much about Gerard, but Gerard made it clear to her that if it came to it, he'd gladly give up his life to give their son a chance. As much as that moved her, Gaia wouldn't have like it either way. She wanted her son to have a normal life, that meaning that he had a mother and a father.

Gaia leaned over the rail as she had the night before, hoping to catch a glimpse of ocean life just below the glass cover, but the vibrant dwellers below that had been following them lately were nowhere in sight. That was disheartening. "Why aren't you there when I want to see you, friends?" she whispered to the waves. A paw came to rest on her back and Gaia leaned back into Gerard's touch. "The fish aren't following anymore," she sighed. Gerard's ears went flat against his head.

"Really? That's too bad. I was hoping to get a better look at them today for a painting when we made it Ursius." Gaia could tell that this was not the reason Gerard became grave. She knew her ways around her husband.

"What's the matter? Why have they stopped following? You're a fisherman. You should know," Gaia persisted. Gerard shook his head, leaning over the rail and peer into the glossy aqua below.

"There are many reasons for them to stop following. Predators, recent naval activity. There's no telling. Don't worry over it Gaia, we're-"

"Man-o-War to the starboard side! She's hoisting a black flag!" The look-out blared from his nest atop the main-mast. Oslow rushed on deck and to the right side of the ship. Gaia and Gerard followed, glaring out at the horizon where a Man-o-War had appeared. Even from this distance, Gaia could easily see the great size of her, noting the marvels about a Man-o-War her husband had spoken of many times. Oslow turned to the helmsman, eyeing the labrador cautiously.

"Keep steady! She's might not see us," he warned. Gerard hissed at the remark.

"Are you kidding? We're hoisting the Ursian flag! She's sees us!" The Ursian flag was a bright blue cloth dotted with golden stitched stars in a pattern much representing a paw. The stitching shimmered in sunlight like stars do in the night sky, but that beautiful work didn't always mean well upon mariners. Slowly, Gaia could see the ships form changing on the horizon. She was turning. Weather it was towards them or away, she couldn't tell. The look-out could, though.

"She's after us!"

"Damn it!" Oslow smashed his paw down on the rail. Gaia swore she heard the wood splinter. "Full sail! We're smaller and numble! We might be able to outrun her."

"You'll end up killing us!" Gerard roared, "We're near the reefs! One slip and we'll be grounded and unable to move anywhere. There's no telling these scoundrel's intentions. Wait for the warning shot!"

"Why?"

"If she fires a warning shot, she wishes to board and won't try to damage us. If she doesn't, then she wishes to sink us for sport and we'll know what we're dealing with. You were right, we're numble, and a Man-o-War class needs a clear broadside to sink us. We can avoid that until getting into the Ursian Naval patrol not to far off."

"And what if they wish to board?"

"We try to talk our way out. It's the best we can do. No sails. Wait."

"Whatever you say, but if they board, you're the one talking. Raise the sails! Full stop!" The crew jumped to their posts, taking up and securing the sail in record time, almost that to match the Ursian navy. The secured the rigging then stopped dead where they were, going silent and perking their ears. For long moments, they listened. There was but the rolling of aqua waves long the hull of The Moore Runner. Salty splashes kicked over the rails. Then, there was a sound matching that of thunder. A cannon ball splashed down just ahead of The Moore Runner's bow. Something deep inside Gaia nearly burst. Her heart thumped rapidly against her ribs like it were trying to break free. She tightly gripped Gerard's paw.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"I hope so, too. Get below, love. Warn the others. Try not to instil panic." Gaia nodded, quickly trotting below deck. Many of the others there were alit with confusion, hearing the man screams from above and noticing the ship's sudden stop.

"Gaia," came Sheila, Mike close at her tail, "What's happening?" Gaia took her paw and lead her over to the other passengers who Gaia persuaded to sit and relax.

"We've just encountered some trouble with local mariners in the area. Oslow and Gerard are going to speak with their Captain and we'll be on our way. For now, we need to stay below deck and out of the way in case male aggression starts to peak." Gaia tried to sound at ease, but that distress in her eyes seemed to give clear indication as to the severity of the situation. They all sat in tense silence, some holding paws and others wringing their own out of nervous habit. Gaia clenched her paws into fists, only able to think of one thing: Frederick. The little cub was moving around an awful lot inside her. Perhaps he sensed his mother's distraught. It was getting to become really uncomfortable, actually. Sheila took hold of Gaia's paw.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" she asked, eyeing Gaia with caution.

"Yes, the cub's just a little antsy," she breathed. Sheila nodded but didn't release the grizzly's paw. Her ears perked to Gaia's every breath, noting that something was, in fact, wrong with her. Or, rather right but not at a good time.

"Gaia, honey."

"Yes?" the Grizzly breathed.

"I think you're close. It won't be long before your water breaks."

"oh, not now..."

The Man-o-War floated into position alongside The Moore Runner and the crew aboard it attached the still lines to the smaller ship's deck railing. In moments, crew members from the Man-o-War dove onto the smaller deck and brandished gold plated flint locks and muskets. Most of them were either Foxes or Dogs with the exception of a few lizards, one lynx, and a black bear. Most of them were uniformed unknowingly, wearing nothing special to indicate high rank. The captain wasn't among them. "Get everyone on top deck now!" barked the Lynx, flashing a pistol at Oslow. He wore a red sash around his waist and navy trousers. His fur was a light grey with black stripes and spots about his thin body. "You daft? I said, get everyone on deck!"

"Where's your Captain?" Gerard was being bold in asking this, but he needed to negotiate with the one giving orders. The Lynx moved the Pistol to aim at the Grizzly.

"Who's to say I'm not the Captain?"

"Hardly even a laugh. You don't have the decoration nor the scars to be a Captain, let alone one to commandeer a Man-o-War. We'll do as you ask, but I just wish to speak to the Captain."

"You want to see how capable I am, fluffy?" He pressed the pad of his paw to the trigger and went to fire, but before a round left the gun, the Lynx's wrist was yanked up, firing the lead ball into the air. He who had a hold of the boy's wrist was a Pirate, very aged, but far from elderly. He was an almost crimson fox with a white belly, visible under his holster straps and long coat. The tip of his tail was also white along with his muzzle. The bright eyes which shone under his cap were green, glowing luminously. He stood up to his full height, about as tall as Gerard if not for the cap.

"This gentleman makes a polite request and you aim to shoot him without even considering it?" he asked, voice cold and smooth. He turned his muzzle to breath into the face of the Lynx. "This," he barked, yanking the boy's wrist, "Is why you do not rise in rank, kitten! Stand down and return to the ship!" He released him and the youngling scurried back to their vessel, the snickers and jeers of the crew following him the entire way. The Captain, as it seemed, looked at Gerard and removed his black hat, revealing white-tipped ears, his left badly damaged by what looked like gunfire. "Now, why don't you get everyone on deck and we'll talk, hmm?" Gerard nodded and looked to Oslow who opened the grate and trotted down the stairs. "What is your name, Ursian?" asked the Captain.

"Gerard Fazbear."

"I'm Captain Leopold Fox. What is your destination?"

"Ursius for the Soul Festival." Leopold nodded, holding his paws behind his back, asking no other questions. They waited a little while longer before Oslow returned. The look on his muzzle was grave. "What is it?" asked Gerard. Oslow gulped.

"It's your wife. She's gone into labor."

"What?!" Gerard hissed through his teeth. "Now?!"

"Yes, now! Her water broke just moments ago."

"What is it? Is there a problem, gentlmen?" asked the Captain, approaching the two of them. Gerard smallowed hard, looking the Fox in the eyes.

"You see, I came aboard this ship with my wife who is with cub. She's eight months along and I'm afraid she's gone into labor." The Captain's eyes softened deeply, ears falling in some form of defeat. He turned to his crew and waved one paw. With strange looks all around, they turned and slowly climbed back aboard their own ship. He turned back to Gerard.

"Is she below deck?"

"Yes sir."

"Let me see her." The command made Gerard's stomach plummet. His breath hitch in his throat and all he could utter was a soft squeak. "I don't intend on hurting her. I just want to see... I have a Vixen, you see, on the island Lenaus. She's far along with a kit by my blood, so I am as well a father to be. If you just let me see her, I'll let you on your way, nothing taken, no one harmed." Gerard stood for but a moment before answering with a shaken nod. They took the Captain down to the lowest deck where a circle had formed around Gaia. Gerard broke through the Circle with Leopold close behind, to sit at his Wife's side. He was passed strange looks, but the Fox managed to find a good place to watch. Oslow moved around so that he was at Gaia's feet. The female was already lain out and breathing heavily.

"Get me a blanket!"

He was so beautiful. He had his father's fur and my eyes, and according to Oslow, a strong set of lungs. He bleated and cried so loud that poor little Mike even started crying. When I took him into my arms, the way he nuzzled into me made my heart flutter like one million butterflies. he clung to me with his tiny claws. The way his paws were too big for him made me giggle. Everything about him was so beautiful. I cried. Gerard cried. I swear that even Oslow shed a tear for that little cub. How could we not? Hours of labor and pain finally producing my little miracle. All I could do for so long was rock him in my arms and kiss his soft muzzle. When I finally let Gerard hold him, he couldn't hold it in any longer. He let loose a wave of sobs, cries of joy and he held our cub in his arms. Little Frederick grabbed at his father's nose and chest scruff, whining a little before getting comfortable in his arms. After that, he simply went to sleep, breathing quietly in lull from Gerard's heart-beat. There was never a moment in my life more beautiful than that. There are hardly words to describe that which I felt.

Good luck, sweetie.


	2. Chapter 1

The bottle-neck twisted in his paw, rolling between the pads of it. The tips of his claws scratched the glass with a shrill whine. He wasn't entirely there, having alcohol taken him over the deep end and drowned him in its intoxication. He'd been like that for days, loathing in self-pity and barren misgivings. If there was any avenue for his depression to take, he couldn't see it through the haze. He couldn't even see strait. Slowly, the door of his bedroom creaked open, letting in a harsh blast of light from hallway. In his doorway, a figure stood and stared at his aloof posture. It shook its head and walked over to the lamp at his bedside. He picked up a match from the table and lit the lamp which caused the drunk to clench his crystal irises shut. "Frederick," came the worn voice of a male Ursian. Freddy opened one eye, trying his ability to focus on details. He could see the graying fur on the male's muzzle which nearly matched his eyes. The Ursian grabbed Freddy by his paw, the one hold the half-empty liquor bottle, and yanked him to the floor. It was just enough to wake him slightly. He stumbled to his feet and clutched his temple before sitting up against the bed.

"'ey, dad... Still as abusive s'ever," the younger bear slurred, digging his claws into the side of his head. "What're you doing here?" The older male grunted, picking up an empty bottle from the floor surrounding Freddy's bed.

"Seeing if my lame-ass son is finished with his self-loathing, but it seems you're far from it!" He threw the bottle to the floor, smashing it into thousands of shards, some of which dug into Freddy's arm and side. He didn't care. He could hardly feel it. "Do you know how selfish you're being right now? Thinking you're the only one who loved her? You know what? I would have loved to have my son with me at her funeral. I would have loved to have you with me at her grave. I would have loved to have you with me for the past week when I was alone and having to sleep in an empty bed for the first time in over twenty years. I would have loved some loving words, some caring reassurance, and more than anything, I would have loved to be able to help you through this, too. Yet, all that seems too much for you to give. You can't look away from your own sorrow for two seconds to worry about the family you still have left!" Freddy kicked a bottle aside, glaring at the older bear with his crystal eyes.

"I dunno if you've noticed, but I like t'be alone. We all grieve in our own ways." Gerard kicked a bottle across the room, smashing it against a wall. He grabbed hold of Freddy's paw and yanked him to his feet.

"Come on."

"Where're you attempting t'take me?"

"Just listen to me for once in your worthless life, will you?" Gerard yanked again and this time his son followed, stumbling a little down the stairs before making it to the door. When it opened, harsh sunlight bore down on him like a demon, burning his fur and eyes. He shielded what he could with his free paw, the other being pulled by his father down the sidewalk along where his home sat. Once his eyes had adjusted, he began to slowly take in the normal look of the city. The streets were made of cobble-stone and oil lamps lined the curbs. Store fronts built from stone rose from the cold streets to a copper roof. The windows were of diamond designs, held together by metal strips. Each door was old and wooden with black steel accents such as door hinges and smaller windows. Gerard pulled Freddy a long ways down the street, onto another around a corner before turning into a cafe tucked snugly between a boutique and flower shop. The plants being sold right outside said flower shop were vibrant blue, dotted with darker blue spots. Freddy recognized them and highly despised them at the moment. He remembered his mother always keeping them around the house, often in the bedrooms or dining room. They were her favorite. Gerard pulled him into the cafe and sat him down at a booth before sitting in front of him and waiting for the waitress to finish clearing a near-by table. "We'll get you some water and coffee then talk, okay?" Freddy clutched his head.

"Talk about what?" he inquired, trying to articulate more clearly. Gerard snorted at him.

"Your mother. You're avoiding it. You're avoiding people in general because almost everyone in town knew her and you don't want to hear about it. You're running from the fact that she's gone, Frederick, and that's not healthy." The waitress, a young, yellow-feathered hen, finally returned, looking at Freddy with some surprise. She wore a white dress covered in strange little squares and lines that resembled confetti. The feathers atop her head were combed over to one side like a wave.

"Freddy. I haven't seen you in days. How are you?" She asked.

"Hey, Chica... I'm fine..." he breathed, avoiding eye contact. The Hen looked over to Gerard with populous droves of sympathy.

"I'm sorry to hear about Gaia. We're all going to miss her."

"Can we just get some coffee," Freddy broke in, not allowing his father to respond. Chica nodded and turned back to the kitchen. Gerard eyed his son angerly.

"Watch your tongue, cub," he growled, "However bad you think this is for you, it gives you no right to behave so rudely, especially towards your friends." Freddy only huffed, resting his head against a fist as he looked through the window. The sky was clear, not a cloud dotting its canvas. The sun moved slowly along in the morning light, casting away the shadows among street corners and alley ways as though they were cut-throats at the swords end of a Galleon Master. "Must you make this so difficult?" asked Gerard, pulling Freddy from his thoughts. His voice was calmer, quieter and urging. It was almost pleading. For what, Freddy wasn't sure. "I know what she meant to you, and I know I wasn't always there, but, Freddy, I still love you. You're my son. I can't come close to the bond you and her had, but I, at the least, want to help you get over this."

"You don't get over losing someone you love. You just get used to them not being there..." Silence engulfed them. Gerard didn't really know what to think of his son at the moment. The cub was shifting in mood faster than a pregnant female.

"Okay, guys, here's your coffee." Chica had returned with two metal cups, setting one down in front of each bear. She also set a bowl of sugar in the middle of the table with a flask of cream. "You need anything else?"

"Maybe some water for moron here? He's going to have a terrible hangover later." Chica put down her serving tray, eyeing Freddy with her pink irises.

"Drinking again? Seriously? You said you stopped months ago!"

"Old habits come back with a vengeance." The hen sighed, picking up her tray and walking back to the kitchen. She returned moments later with another metal cup, setting it down gruffly in front of him. Some of the liquid splashed onto his muzzle, causing him to lick it off after she'd left. "Bitch," Freddy grumbled. Gerard leaned over the table and popped Freddy's muzzle hard with his paw, dragging a claw over his cheek.

"You don't talk about women that way. I raised you better. You're not one of those using bastards. She cares about you and you'd be wise to hold people like that close on this long road you're going down." Gerard took a sip of his coffee. "Also, she's going to be your new co-worker."

"What?"

"You're taking up a job here. No arguments. It'll help you take your mind off things."

"Dad-"

"No. Arguments."

"But-"

"Frederick."

"I'm twenty years old. I can-"

"Get a job and stop relying on me to pay your bills every month. You need this for more than just therapy. Now, Drink your water and coffee and we'll go see Scott about that job."


	3. Chapter 2

Leopold's claws dug into his desk, latching into the wood with deep marks. His nerves couldn't have been more porciline. The reason being for it was that, Leopold had lived a long, fruitful life. He'd done many memorable things, some to be proud of, others not so much. Either way, he'd lived long and done much. His time was coming to close. His old bones couldn't continue to grind down on the deck of this ship which he'd been captain of for over thirty years. All things came to an end, but sometimes there were beginnings which followed suit. This was one of those times. There came a knock on Leopold's cabin door, which he answered with but a loud grunt, beconing whoever it was to enter his space. He who entered was a crimson Fox much like himself, but where Leopold was white, this kit was a pink-like red. For the son of a pirate captain, he wasn't dressed considerably glorious, having but a pair of brown trousers to cover his lower half.

Leopold hadn't known the kit for a long while in his life, seeing as he had been at sea for the first few years. When he returned to a fourteen year old Foxy, he wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms. The kit wanted nothing to do with him and leopold swore that his son tried his best to act as though he wasn't even there. It was slow-going getting that behavior to change, but after some time, Foxy began to show something akin to respect for his father and perhaps some grudging admiration. Now, Foxy was twenty years of age. The kit was still growing in maturity, but was well enough off that Leopold trusted him with many responsibilities. He'd never take his son to battle, but the kit knew his way around a ship and could do many of the crewman tasks even better then the crew themselves.

"Sit Foxy," Leopold comanded sternly, pointing a claw at a posh sofa to the right of his desk. The kit did as he was told and slumped on one of the cushions, more leasurely than his father would have wanted, but he didn't know why he was here, so the seriousness was void to him. "I know this was on short notice... I'm sure you're very buisy with... drinking and such like most youths around your age, but this is something I've been meaning to do for over a year now." He stopped in front of Foxy and glared down at him with his sea-green irises. The younger fox stared back with his golden beams, lightly glazed with curiocity and overall filled with bordom. "What have you considered, career wise?"

Foxy scratched his muzzle. "Nothin' t'all." His accent was thick like his mother's. Leopold wanted to roll his eyes at that, but perhaps it was a good thing.

"Well, I suppose that makes things slightly easier. Foxy, I've been all over the place, traveling on this ship most of my life. This vessel has been in our family sinse my great grandfather stole her from an Ursian Navel yard many years ago. I don't want this to end with me. Seeing as you're my first born, I'd say you're the fittest candidate to inherit her, now." Foxy's eyes went wide. He sat up strait, restraing the urge to jump from his seat.

"Really?" he yipped, almost child-like. Leopold hadn't expected such enthusiasm, considering that his son was widely aware of the challenge being a Captain presented. Maybe he was actually ready for it. Maybe he was just blissfully ignorant. Either way, it was a good start. "Are ye sure?"

"Is there a problem with my decision?"

"Nay, sir, s'jus', we were ne'er on t'best terms..."

"I know... But, Foxy, I thought that our relationship has greatly matured over the past few years and that we could finally advance to a more respectible fetter. You're my son. I have been neglecting my parental role for a long time, now I think it's time for me to make up for many of these lost years by giving you something you rightfully deserve and have earned." Leopold place a paw atop Foxy's head, scratching at the patch of scruff that always stuck out between his ears. "We must do this formally, though, before the crew. They must bare witness."

He took Foxy's wrist and stood him up, walking him to the cabin door with an arm around his shoulder. They stepped out onto the deck of their Man-a-War, now docked off the coast of Meram, an island not far from Ursius. "At Attention, mates!" Leopold barked, drawing the eyes of all on deck. "I have a special announcment for all of you to hear and an event to bare witness." The entire crew dropped their tasks and made a semi circle around the two. "On this day, in view of the entire Crew of this vessel, on the shores of Meram, I relinquish my comand of this ship and hand it down to my heir, Foxworth, first born of my seed." A low murmer escaped the crew before the initial cheer, bewildered muzzles about the crowd.

Foxy was never one for formalities. He usually avoided them, in fact, to save face as he was never a creature of many words. His father was much the opposite, taking pride in his fluency and articulation and finding many an opperotunity to us them. He did not speak much like other Lenans, either, but that was more a matter of him being raised on Ursius by his mother.

Foxy spoke in a thick Lenan accent, however. At times it was hard to understand, even sloppy, but he took to it better and saw that others did as well; especially pirates. Pirates saw any creature who spoke in the manner that Leopold did, with the exception of Leopold, saw themselves of higher importance and nothing erked a pirate more than a self-entitled bloke. Ursian's were the worst offenders.

As his father finished addressing the crew, he took Foxy by his shoulder and led him back into the cabin, a broad grin spread across his muzzle. Foxy shared a similar expression and teetered awkwardly on his hind-paws. As the silence grew suffocating, he chose to speak, something that came easy around his father as of late. Perhaps that was a good thing.

"So, what'll ye do now?"

"I will dedicate myself entirely to my duties on Lenaus. Your mother is a fine leader, but she is just one vixen. With the economic termoil that Lenaus is facing at the moment, having us both home would do our people a great justice. Besides, the Ursian King does not take kindly to female rulers. As I have been told, he's been rather unfair to her during my absense. That aside, there are two matters I would like you to ponder." Foxy nodded wordlessly, allowing his father to continue. "The first is of your sister. Her financial situation is... less than desireable..."

"Me thought Vaha was in well; livin' in the Crown District. "

"Well, it isn't the ammount of money that is the problem. It is the way she earns it. I am sure you could take a guess as to what she does. I was never happy with the arraingment, but in the past few months there was... an incident... I do not wish for this to continue. Make her part of your crew and build her as I have built you."

Foxy's ears drooped and eyes protrayed a look of worry. "Incident? Wot kind'a 'incident'?"

Leopold sighed, turning back towards his cabin window and running the palm of his paw along the right side of the frame in near whistful silence. More was on his mind than just his daughter. The sight of it was sobering. "She was... beaten... savagely... She was such a beautiful vixen... just like her mother..."

Foxy's shoulders rose, fur on their crests spiking up as it always did when he was flusterd. A burning expression of hatred bore into his eyes like the fires of the five-hells, but with a light so bright that the heavens would stand jealous with their own white flames. "By who?" he demanded, teeth clenching. Leopold turned calmly to his son.

"A Gypsie named Mal Bete. He lives in the Charm district. With that information, you will do what?"

Foxy slowly allowed his body to loosen, his eyes soothe, an air of false innocence and true deviance growing to replace the anger. He merely shrugged and gave his father a toothy-smile, his false, golden teeth making the expression somewhat lop-sided.

"An eye fer'n eye 'n a tooth fer a tooth." Leopold gave no expression nor verbal reply. He simply gave a single nod.

"Secondly," he continued after some moments, "My first mate, Cineal Croi, will be stepping down with me. Per custom, you are to chose your own first mate to replace him."

Another smile. "I know jus' th' hound."


	4. Chapter 3

"Freddy, you're missing some," Chica warned, picking up some of the metal plattered that Freddy failed to collect. The grizzly rumbled a curse and took the items from the female, almost in a snatch. Chica mearly rolled her eyes and walked but a few feet away. She needed to keep working, yet still keep an eye on her new co-worker. Yes, the bear was a hard worker. He tried his best, but one thing she knew he needed to work on was communication. Freddy wasn't exactly kind towards certain breeds of customer. They just pulled at his cords untill they snapped and thus, so did Freddy. She nor Scott could really blame him for his current state. His mother meant the world to him and now she was gone.

After but a few hours, the number of patrons began to dwindle. Things began to relax considerably, meaning well for Freddy's frail temper. He sat down in one of the empty booths and pinched the top of his snout which was curled into a snarl. There was a slight creak as someone sat in front of him. His crystal eyes fell upon his co-worker, Bonnie, the cook. He tried a forced smile, but got nothing in return. Bonnie was a rather spry induvidual, not much smaller than Freddy but still as thin around the waste. He was a purple rabbit with ears slightly larger than the norm. Many could make the comment on how rediculous they looked on him, but they didn't. Bonnie was a kind person and everyone knew it. He was very popular around Ursius. Not to mention Chica's lover, and she was also a wellknown figure around those parts.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, tapping the pad of his paw on the table. Freddy only snorted at him, digging his claw into the side of his muzzle. Bonnie's ears twitched. "Okay... bad then... Uh... I'm sorry... about Gaia..." Freddy's fist came down on the table, splintering the wood as he let out a heavy snarl.

"I know! Everyone is sorry! It's all they can talk about and I'm sick of hearing it! I'm sick of hearing her name! All it does is make it even more obvious to me that she's gone!" he collapsed on the table, sobbing passionatly whilist digging his ebony claws into the stained wood. "I wake up every morning, hoping that it was all a dream, a horrible, horrible nightmare, but... it's not... No matter how much I hope and how might I prey..." The hare reached over the table and pressed a soft paw to Freddy's shaking back.

"I could never imagine losing someone that close to me and I don't understand the grief, but, Freddy, everyone is trying to help you, show you they care. They don't know what they're doing to you. We all mean well and we all will miss her, though not as much as you and Gerard. Why don't you just go home. I'll cover for you, okay?" Freddy lifted his head, crystal eyes bloodshot and soaked.

"I can't ask you to do that, Bonnie..."

"You're not. I'm volonteering. Go home. Talk to your father, or something like that. He's a course grizzly, but he has his ways." Freddy could sometimes remember his mother saying such a thing, but he'd often refuse to believe it. Perhaps she had truth in those words. Maybe it was time to trust them.

The knock upon Gerards door came as more a blessing now than it ever had been. He'd needed company or someone to talk to for a long time, be it someone who actually willed a visit or the post-dog. Either way, he was happy to have someone there... well, untill he saw who it was. The look on his son's face read as unsure, ashamed, and hopeful all at once. Gerard wasn't sure how he felt about that. Did he get fired on his first day? That wouldn't be a surprise. "Dad... I had... a breakdown and work and they wanted me to come home and cool off before getting back to work and well... I... I wanted to spend this time with you." Gerard couldn't believe his ears, so much so that he laid them flat against his greying head.

"Am I already losing my hearing? Did I just hear my son say he wanted to spend time with me?"

Freddy growled. "I'm a wreck and I can see that now. I'm stupid. I'm ignorant. I'm lonely... and I'm lost... I need guidence and I need someone to be there for me. Who better than someone who's going through the same thing?"

"So, now our grief is euqal, cub? Now my sorrow over her is as justified as yours?"

"Dad, please!" His voice rang with the feint hint of a sob. His eyes were pleading, genuinly and... never had Gerard seen it in that cub's eyes... He was scared... His ignorance had ran its course and Freddy was actually scared... He was aimless without his mother, always relying on her tender words and support. Gerard had always scoffed at it, never wanting to tend to his son as they had, but... had it really done this much damage? There sure was a lot to fix.

"Come in, Cub." Gerard ushered his son into the house and lead him into the sitting room. The posh red sofas were still as solid and uncomfortible as Freddy remembered, but the tender look upon his fathers face was concerning him more at the moment. "Freddy, do you remember when you were on vacation, and we'd all go out on my boat on the lake and spend days out there, fishing and playing pirates?"

"I was six."

"Yes, but do you remember?"

"Yes, I remember... When life was simple and seen through the eyes of an innocent cub who hadn't a care in the world..."

"Yes, well, what if I take you fishing, but instead of my boat, we take Oslow's and he'll come with us." Freddy gave a weak smile.

"Oslow? That old tick's still alive?" Gerard gave a humored scowl and snorted.

"Of course he is. He's not much older than I."

"Sure, but he's not one for keeping out of trouble. He may mean well, but a good heart can get you into the worst places these days."

"He's more stubborn than you. Nothing save for an intervention from the angels could kill that bear. Maybe not even that. Still, I think a little time with him, out at sea would do you and I some good. Maybe we'll head out on the far coast of Solace. They have some beautiful Commet fish and huge schools of Silver angles. It's a catch-and-release area, but it could be fun, nonetheless."

Freddy, who'd been wringing his paws for the past few minutes, finally looked up at his father and bore a soft, half-hearted, smile. "Yeah... I... I'd like that..."


	5. Chapter 4

A quiet lull of wind dove among the harbor yard, buffeting the looser items with its force, but only slightly cooling the aching workers who pressed upon their tasks repeatedly as they had been for quite a long time. A few of them knew Gerard and greeted him with a grudging respect, such as lifted chins or subtle nods. Gerard would respond in the same ways. He was anything if not a respectful male. Freddy was a meere follower, a cub just trudging at the heels of the icon that was Gerard Fazbear. He didn't mind it any. So what if the dock workers didn't recognize him? The two of them weaved through the internal structure of the yard, breaking through small docks, which bed larger figets, and smaller ones, which held meeger fishing dingies. Oslow's ship, The Moore Runner, was somewhere in the middle. She wasn't a large war-class, but she was neither small. When they reached her aged bed, Oslow awaited them on the dock. The white bear stood with pridefull posture, or as much as he could considering his old bones. He was older than Gerard.

The look upon his muzzle, previously stern and un-emotional, changed to that of surprise when he laid eyes on Freddy. "Well now, if it isn't sour-mouthed-cub. I haven't seen you sinse you cold-cocked one of my crew and left with his teeth. How old were you? Sixteen? I hold nothing against you, cub, but Dickens may still be gumming angerly at the fag." Freddy snorted at that.

"Let him be angry. I'll finish what I started. One good one across the face for every year sinse we last met. Then he'll need his food pre-chewed for him."

"Frederick!" Gerard broke in, his stern bark causing Freddy to jolt. "We're here to calm you down, not play fight club. Get on board and set up your things." Freddy snorted and did as he was told, for once. When Gerard knew he was out of earshop, he released a collected sigh.

"Things been tough?"

"It's Freddy. What do you think? The cub's as stubborn as an old tree, even worse now that Gaia's gone. She always knew how to make him move and now... He's dug himself into a rut of alcohol and bitterness. I thought he'd never end the cycle... Then... just yesterday... He came to me on the vurge of tears, begging me to comfort him in some small way. He said he'd had a break down at work and he wanted to spend some time with me to finally get over what's happened. I don't know if this'll last, but I pray that nothing bad happens."

"That cub is more like Gaia than you'd like to admit," chuckled Oslow. "He's stubborn, determined, hates to be wrong and refuses to admit he is even if he knows it. Sure, he uses those traits in the wrong areas, but she's there, Gerard. Usually people who are exactly the same don't like one another, which made his relationship with Gaia quite strange, but... maybe you can use what made you and Gaia so compatable and... perhaps... win him over. He'll come grudgingly at first, but stone walls can only last so long."

Gerard sighed once more and felt along the side of The Moore Runner. When he looked above him, her sails tugged at the roped that kept them bound. "I was hoping this ship might spur something,' he began, voice quiet. "We never told him the true story of his birth... About the pirates and this ship. He never asked. Maybe if we had told him, he would have held it in more sentimate... Hell, there are a lot of things we should have told that cub... Maybe things would be different..." Oslow gripped Gerards shoulder, his ebony claws just lightly grazing the skin below his thick fur pelt.

"Don't wish to change the past, Gerard. What's done is done. The longer you live in your memories, the more of your life you lose."

"The more you look to the future, the less your memories will mean..." Oslow sighed, turning to stand directly in front of the Ursian, a soft smile curving across his muzzle. He grabbed Gerard's shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes. The softness in them was something the grizzly always found comfort in, something that always soothed him. They'd say it was the look of a father, but he was unsure if he, himself, held the same in his own. What did that say about him?

"Always live in the now for the past has happened and the future is not guarenteed..." his voice was almost a whisper, only slightly above the roar of the water and the general noise of the docks. "Do you remember who told us that?" The Grizzly returned Oslow's smile, a sort of sheen in his gaze.

"Some old fox from lenaus with a kit on the way and a prize to plunder."

"Hrm... When did you speak to him last?" The question rose quite a few feelings, one of which was guilt. After three years after the incident off the coast of Ursius, Gerard had lost touch with Leopold. It was hardly a one-sided occurence as he was sure Leopold was a busy man, but he still felt terrible about it. Last he heard, a year after his son's birth, he'd come to expect another child. Whatever came of it was unknown and Gerard very much wished to change that. Perhaps he'd visit Lenaus at some point and catch up. The old fox wouldn't be hard to track down.

"A little over eighteen years ago, I'd wager."

"Honestly? A pirate, of all creatures, gives up the plunder of an entire ship so that your wife can give birth in peace, escorts you home, and helps pay for your son's future and you lose touch with him for eighteen years?"

"It wasn't my choice, Oslow." The conversation continued as they walked onboard The Moore Runner, dodging the crew as they carried many things on and off the vessel. "He and I had many things to deal with. Gaia was ill for a long time and he was, of course, a pirate and a father of two, last I heard. I also had Frederick. Finding time to write and send letters all the way to Lenaus became more of a hassle than it was worth and I even told him that my letters were going to be getting less frequent. After the response to that, neither of us responded and that was that. I apriciate all he has done for my family and told him time and time again, so it isn't like I was just taking his kindness without agknowledgment."

"Did you ever properly repay him?"

"Money was one of the main reasons I couldn't continue to send letters. How could I have given him anything of value in regards to my wife and son?" The bear began to walk to and from, claws digging into his legs.

"Time would have been enough. Did you ever go to visit at least once?"

"No, I didn't. I couldn't. I'd be gone weeks on the trip alone, leaving Gaia with her condition to care for Frederick." Oslow stopped Gerard's pacing with firm paws on his shoulders.

"Pearl would've helped."

"I could never ask your wife to do that. She had her own problems."

"And grown children to help her with her problems."

"Oslow, I appreciate the thought, but Frederick was always a handful and Gaia couldn't even get out of bed some mornings, in spite of her trying. I mean, she was determined most days, but others she couldn't muster to lift a paw and to ask someone to deal with that for some weeks while I was gone isn't something I'd put on a friend." Realization clicked in Oslow's eyes. He realsed Gerard, but the grizzly didn't move, feeling the weight of something holding him in place.

"So that's what it was about... You were so stubborn that you didn't want anyone to help you with your family. You wanted to do it yourself, in spite of everything. You never got help for Frederick and you never got help for Gaia until it was too late."

Gerard's paws balled into fists and muzzle scrunched as though to make some retort, violent or otherwise, but... after a moment's stillness... it all vanished... His fists dropped to his sides, his body going almost limp, and his muzzle scrunching for another reason entirely. His eye's clenched shut as his back smached into the main-mast and slowly slid down, leaving Gerard but a loose heap on the deck. A single jagged breath escaped his throat. The white bear knelt down before his friend, expression as soft as it could be as though any harsher look would shatter the grizzly.

Gerard looked up at him, whatever force keeping him together almost gone. "I want to fix this... I was too late with Gaia, but... Damn it, Oslow, I am NOT going to lose Frederick, too. I will do ANYTHING. I would give my life if it meant giving my son a chance in this world. I have tried my best all these years, but, Gods, was I misguided... I refused help all those years ago, but... Would you re-extend that kindness? I need it." The expression on Oslow's muzzle shifted back to a soft smile as he reached out a paw to his friend.

"Even if the sky was breaking into the heavens..."

...

Solace was a rather beautiful island. Most of it was taken up by city, but a city that bustled alongside the natural formations of the island to the point of actually being built inside them. A good portion of the island was built normally along the bay, but, as it progressed inland, the structures began to wind into the hills, and even the mountains reaching far into the distance. Solace also had a rather unique style in building. Everything seemed very open and vibrant, flowers and rustic lamps lining the streets. Every home and store had its own garden of pastel flowers. Evening Primroses, asters, and dhalias gave the white-painted civilization life, if the 'colorful' inhabitants weren't enough. Of course, this was South Solace... The farther north one traveled, the higher the elevation and the colder it got. North Solace had crippling blizzards year round.

Luckally, he wasn't going anywhere near the mountains. Though Solace was known for its beauty and security, there were still some lumps of coal in the diamond mine and Foxy didn't have to travel far to find one in particular. Down one of the less opulent streets, he came to an old, but still beautiful home, lined with dhalias to the open porch. The front door was a light cordia wood, accented with iron handles that put a lovely contrast between the house and door. The red fox stopped before it and didn't hesitate to knock.

Short moments passed in patience and calm before it opened. On the other side stood a little puppy. She was well groomed, draped in a little white gown, to compliment the sunny-hue of her fur, and a white bow between her ears. She did not look upon him as though he were unknown, or if he was known or stranged. She looked upon him with a sudden spark of life, a spark of recognition and joy as she lept from the door-way to be caught by the creature and held close.

"Well, ain't ye a sight fer sore eyes, lassie. Yer gettin' prettier ev'ry day," he chimed, smile crooked, but true. The little shepherd in his arms coiled her own around his neck and merely basked in his presence. It wasn't long before they were joined by another of her breed, but a male. His fur was darker than hers and he was much larger, an adult. They had the same brown eyes, though. It was no shock. She WAS the shepherd's daughter, after all.

The male cocked a brow, unsure what to think of Foxy's sudden appearence. Simple visits were close to nonexistant. "Foxy... What're you doing here?" The red canine slowly lowered the little pup onto the wooden floor of the porch and tried to keep his inner emotions in check. He didn't want to blow the surprise before its time.

"Me needs t'talk t'ye 'bout somethin'. Can we go inside? Be rather private matters." The male shepherd stepped aside, allowing the other to enter before beckoning his pup to follow. She skipped along at the fox's heels, paws pattering joyously up the stairs; to tell her mother, no doubt. Foxy and the male stepped from the entry-way to the parlor, settling down on ajacent, brown sofas before the unlit fireplace. It was mid-afternoon and there wasn't a need for an actual fire.

"So, what is it now?" Michael Shmitd didn't mean to sound rude, but this particular appearence happened often and, more often, revolved around the fox needing something of the hound. Foxy didn't take offence to the tone. He knew how the dog must've been feeling.

"Well... Me father has retired."

"Retired? From which occupation?"

"Piracy, leaving his ship'n a majority of her crew t'me."

Michael's eyes wend wide, right paw freezing in the act of grabbing a hard-candy from the bowl on the coffee table. "Really? La Pirata Cala... she's yours? What are you planning on doing with her?"

Now that almost offended him, Mike having no natural incling as to what the son of a pirate was going to do with a Man-a-War. "Aye, 'n me plans on captainin' her. Me's gone use her as me father did 'n as his father did."

"I pirate... you...? You've never been the most law-abiding citizen, always rather mischiefous, but a pirate? Do you have any idea how much of a jump that is? You'd have to manage a crew, know your way around the islands, have a knack for combat. I mean, I'm sure your father taught you a lot, but have you ever actually been in a real fight? Has he ever taken you into combat?"

"Thar be a first time fer everythin'. N', aye, me father did teach me lots. He taught me how t'fight, how t'load a cannon, but all this done haf'ta be on the cap'in 'lone. That's what the crew is fer 'n me needs a good'un if me wants t'do this proper. Now, what be left'a me father's original flock be mostly acceptable, but his first mate retired wit'im. " It didn't take the shepherd a minute. He shook his head vigourously, splaying his paws in a passive gesture.

"Oh no. No, I am not doing that. I have a life here, Foxy. I have a child to care for; a wife. I can't be going off and getting myself into trouble like that. I've settled down."

"N' yer in debt." Mike ticked, setting back in the sofa with a sigh, paws running down his muzzle. "Ye needs this. Yer family needs this. I ain't askin' fer no life commitment, Michael. Me's only askin' fer a few months 'till I can finds someone else. Yer just'a stand-in, savy?"

"A stand-in risking life and limb for a POSSIBLE score. Foxy, piracy is no guarentee. You can't promise me the money to get me out of this."

"Neither can anoyne else... But, unlike ev'ryone else, I can give ye a chance. I can give Lily a chance. This be th' best hope ye's got, Michael. It's th'best hope she's got. If ye done take this little chance, 'n it be jus' fer a few months, then ye may be spendin' th'rest'a yer daughter's life 'n prison."

The shepherd leaned into his paws which were balanced on his knees and proceeded to rub his eyes irritably. He knew it was true. For over a year, the schmitd family had been being jabbed left and right by collectors from Solace, Ursius, Igue, and a small island near Fathren named Saint Aveianne. In years even younger than his current, the hound hadn't been the best with money and traveled all over Paladus until age nineteen. At that point, he met a young female of his own breed named after Solace's signature flower: Dhalia. Shortly after the birth of his daughter, Lily, all the debts of his past began to catch up with him, piling up to near impossible ammounts to pay off.

Mike slowly lifted his head, sighing as he simply glared angerly at the fox. He wasn't angry at Foxy. He was angry at himself and the fact that he knew that the creature before him was probably his only hope at fixing his problems. Collectors didn't care if the money was obtained legally or not.

"How long is a few months?" He asked.

"Three 'er four. Me's got some good spots. Merchant sloops, fishers, a navy grunt 'er two. Tells ye' what: Ev'rythin' we collect goes t'you 'till we've collected 'nuff t'pay off yer debt. Ev'n if we done get 'nuff, we'll at least help."

As two female figures trotted down the stairs behind the captain, Mike licked his muzzle nervously. "Alright... Just... Help me explain it to them."


	6. Chapter 5

As amusing as seeing his son's front end leaned over the deck rail, exhuming his stomach contents was, Gerard was sure that this trip was already off to a bad start. It'd only been four years sense Freddy had last been on a ship, but that still didn't explain why his sea-sickness had returned. Maybe it was the alcoholism... Or maybe he was actually drunk right now. Gerard knew as well as Freddy that Oslow kept a good supply of liquor stowed about his vessel and not only that, but Freddy also knew where many of his hiding spots were. It had been a childhood game for him as a cub to see how many he could find and tell his father, but back then, Freddy was an innocent cub with no want for the substances. Now, Freddy was grown and, surely, addicted to them. Gerard took Freddy by the thick scruff atop his head and lifted the Grizzly's muzzle. Freddy looked at him with some dreary daze and bloodshot eyes which told Gerard all that he needed to know. Knowing better than to attempt to scold him when he was drunk, Gerard took Freddy about the shoulder and dragged him below-deck to his cot. There, he laid his son down and pressed a damp cloth to his forehead.

"How is it that that one has see sickness when-"

"He's not sea-sick. He's drunk. I want you to re-hide all your liquor for me. In Places that Freddy wouldn't look. The cub's got him self a nasty taste for the stuff and it's just about ruined him. Go on, now. Please..." Oslow reluctantly nodded and took to his small hidey-holes, meaning to re-stash his small rations of whisky. Oslow himself wasn't an avid alcoholic. He drank in moderation whenever the situation called for it and kept enough for his crew to share in the same moderation. That left plenty of substance for Freddy to find and exploit. The cub didn't drink in moderation. "You're ruining yourself, cub. I'm trying to stop that from happening..." Gerard mumbled with a soft tongue. Freddy simply returned with his own mumble and rolled over, clenching his stomach. Gerard growled. What had he done wrong? Gerard tried his best to make sure that Freddy had grown up in a protective household, one which frowned upon such things and made it clear how they could hurt him, yet now that he was older, Freddy was partaking in almost every terrible act which his father had advised against. Gaia was also a stern mother, as soft as her disposition made her seem and Freddy listened to her. Why was he disobeying her? He was even an alcoholic when she was alive, meaning her death couldn't have caused such rebellion. Frederick's teenage years had to have been where it started. When he was thirteen, a Galleon Master had showed up at their door-step with Freddy under paw. The enforcer claimed that the cub had vandalized a small storefront. Then, at age fifteen, he came home again with an enforcer at his side, one which claimed that, this time, he had stolen a few bottles of different alcoholic substances, but when confronted about it, Freddy flatly claimed that he didn't drink any of them. Yes, they found the items and found them unopened, no less, but it was curiosity that made him want to take them in the first place. He would have certainly drank them if he hadn't been caught, or, at the very least, tasted them.

Not long after Freddy's troublesome faze began, Gaia and Gerard decided to find their son a better outlet. They tried to get Freddy into different activities, both during and after his classes, yet none appealed to him. Then, he met a small group of youths who were forming a charity choir at the local salvation thrift. At the time, Freddy refused to let his parents know of his interest, but it became evident that the cub wanted to sing. He joined them and, not a week later, Gaia and Gerard found that their son was thriving with these young-lings. He was talented, even! Gerard had walked passed the park one evening to hear a small rehearsal and Freddy was singing lead! Another thing that he'd gotten from Gaia: musical talent. For once, Gerard hadn't a worry in the world... When he heard his cub sing, all he could do was smile. Freddy was enjoying himself, as well. He loved to sing and loved hanging around the other youths which always praised him for his effort and skill. Gerard thought he had found it, his calling... Then it all fell apart. One of the youths, older than Freddy by a few years, a Shepherd, convinced the cub to come with him down to the docks. They snuck into a pub and Freddy got his first taste of alcohol. He was dragged home by another Galleon Master who threatened about the chance of a youth correctional facility. After that, Freddy didn't leave the house. He didn't sing anymore. He didn't smile. His grades in school began to plummet and Gerard always thought he smelled the feint hint of whisky on the cub's breath the few times they spoke, which were usually arguments. Yet, Gaia tried all the way to her grave to convince Gerard that Freddy wasn't lost...That they could still save their cub... Gerard always had his doubts...

Sitting besides his sleeping form now caused Gerard's ears to droop defeated, but he wasn't void of hope. Gaia hadn't ever been wrong. He still trusted her word, no matter how distant it was. The older male scuffled into the neighboring cot and stared into his son's disgraced muzzle, coated in some drying stomach-contents. He was pitiful, but not hopeless. He was only hopeless when he was dead. With that thought in mind, Gerard drifted into sleep, almost smiling had he not been aware of the challenge he was to face for the next few days.

That next morning, the younger bear awoke with a groan and ran his claws about his scalp. Gerard stirred awake, always a light sleeper, and greeted his son with a warmness he hadn't held in a while. As nice as Gerard thought he appeared, Freddy took the grin as a form of smugness. "Good morning, cub. Hungry? Thirsty? I know you could use some water, if you can keep it down." The younger grizzly snarled at Gerard and curled back up on his cot. It wasn't long before another voice, more irritating and louder than Gerard's, bore now on his flattened ears.

"Wake up, Frederick! On my ship, we all rise early. You know this. Up! Up!" Oslow's strong paws coiled around Freddy's forearms and yanked him upright. The sudden change of position rendered Freddy discombobulated for but a moment before he found his bearings and bore his teeth at the white bear. Before a single growl could be uttered, Oslow returned with a stiff smack from his free paw. "Now, don't start your attitude with me, cub. You do as you're told. I'm going to straiten you out, yet!" Fred glanced to his father and snorted.

"So this is your alternative to the navy?"

"Oh no, this is one step up from the navy. Oslow is practically family, so he can whip you up as he pleases... literally..."

"Don't be disappointed when your little tactic doesn't work." Gerard put his paws behind his back and turned to march towards the dining area with a sly grin.

"I'm already disappointed, which means I have nothing to lose. Come now, son. Do as the captain tells you." Oslow pulled Freddy along before he could respond and sat the cub down between a Grey crane with a few too many years in his belt and a Labrador who couldn't care for manners. His 'food' was sloshed over the table as though he was a typhoon just fresh of a fleet. Freddy wasn't exactly proper, but he knew better than that. A wooden trey was thrown down in front of him, Gerard's smug face behind it as he sat down across the table in plain view of his already miserable young. "Now, after you eat, we can spend some time together like you wanted. We can even go top-deck if you think you can handle it." This time, it was smugness. Freddy growled and shoved a heavily weighed spoon into his mouth, trying not to gag at the mushed concoction which the chef had thrown together. The slime-like garbage was an off-orange with small green swirls weaved into it. It had the texture of mucus, which didn't make it any easier to swallow. He managed two more spoon-fulls before he knew his stomach couldn't take anymore. He dropped his spoon onto the table. "Frederick," his father barked in the hard tone which he always used when addressing a wrongful act. "Finish your meal." Meal? Was he serious? Freddy looked down at the still hefty pile of goo on his tray. He looked up at his father with a childish 'do-I-have-to' expression. Gerard smiled and motioned to it as a silent 'yes-you-do.'

Freddy gulped and took up his spoon again. He collected another large pile of slush, large enough to clear a good bit of the load. Before he could envision the taste, he shoveled it into his mouth and swallowed hard. The lump on his throat took two attempts to finally drop into his stomach. 'Just one more bite,' Freddy thought to himself, scooping up the last large ball. He repeated the previous process and threw down his spoon. Before Gerard could say a word, Freddy was up and on-deck. The older Grizzly laughed and looked to Oslow who was holding his pot-belly, trying not to break with mirth. "He's a hard one," the white-bear mused, sarcastically. Gerard shook his hear, breaking his own smile and followed the other up-top.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Frederick," Gerard pleaded, standing at his son's side against the railing. "I'm trying to help you in more ways than relieving your grief. You have a lot of problems, son."

"Name all of them."

"Alcoholism, nicotine addiction, issues with authority, Pride-"

"How is pride an issue?"

"It's not in moderation, but you have too much of it for your own good. You think that, just because you're a big Grizzly, you are entitled to more than anyone else and you're not, Frederick. Listen to me, I don't know why you went down this path. I want to know, but I don't and I doubt you'll tell me, but I want to steer you off of it, even if it means climbing through brambles to do so. You are a smart, talented cub. You're like your mother in so many ways and that's one of the reasons I love you so much, but you're using what she gave you in all the wrong ways. Gaia was determined, but you come across as simply stubborn. Gaia was compassionate, but you turn that compassion into boiling rage. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I'm anti-mom."

"No." Gerard growled and pinched his snout. "Freddy, if you were the opposite of Gaia, you'd almost be me. You are so much like her that when I look at you now, I have to hold back tears. You have her eyes, her talent, her wonderful ability to see through people, something I've seen you do." Both males were fighting a war to hold back their tears. Freddy always thought that his father held him in populous disapproval, never happy with anything he did or ever could be happy no matter what Freddy could do. "I love you so much because of it. You're incredible just like her... Except..."

"What?" Freddy sniffed, prepared for whatever demeaning thing his father was about to say. Gerard merely grinned and nuzzled Freddy snout.

"Gaia always smiled." Freddy's ears flew back and he jerked away aggressively. He was below deck before Gerard could say anything to stop him. "What in hell did I say?" Oslow met him at the main-mast and shook his head.

"There is no telling with that one. The story of his mind is written all over him, but it's in some foreign language. To figure him out, you have to translate it. It'll take time, Gerard. No amount of loving words is gonna change that cub just like that." Oslow snapped his pads. "Give him a little room to air out."

"You haven't failed me yet, friend."

"I went through something a lot like this with Ismene, but she was much younger. She'd gotten Pregnant at fifteen while I was away and had gotten addicted to many things. It took me a long time to get her out of it, but now that cub's got a stable income, a daddy who loves her son and she is as happy as happy can get. You'll figure him out, Gerard."

...

"Weigh anchor. We sail fur t'coast a' Ursius..."


	7. Chapter 6

"Ye be challenging me?" It was more of a statement than a question. The older male at Foxy's desk was a lynx, in his later years and grey in coat. He'd been among the crew long before Foxy's existance and was often teetering on the edge of loyalty and mutany with Leopold. The new captain had gotten many an eye and earfull of Layton when he was a mere kit and still, it seemed, he wasn't giving up on his ways yet. Foxy's paws were rested upon the desk, his cap tilted towards towards his snout. The red longcoat was draped lazily about his shoulders and tied with a brown leather clasp from his left shoulder to his right hip.

"Please," came the other's growling reply, "Most of the crew challenges your athority and ability to captain this ship."

"And what be it that makes me unfit, mister Layton? Be is me age? Nay, can't be, can it? Ye was snobby towards me pap s'well, weren't ye? Can't be me skill, neither. Me can do three jobs all t'once n' better than the crew. What be the problem then, Layon? Ye wish a quarel wit me? Ye wishes tuh take me on?" Foxy had risen from his seat and was glaring deep into the lynx's bitter pools of orange. Layton's grey ears were flat against his head which was slowly shaking. "Nay? Well, that's what its lookin' like tuh me! Why 'tis it that e'ry capin' a' this ship be unfit to ye? Me father was unfit. Me's unfit. What be ye angle, kitten? Answer me!"

"No one in your family is fit for this ship, Foxy. You are all a group of soft bambies who'd help a homeless dog sooner than you'd rob him. You're no pirates!"

"Bein' a pirate, Layton, be more than jus' pillagin' n' killin' n' robbin' n' rapin'. Me father wasn't in dis fur no ill-will. Me father did this fur his family 'cause he ain't got no other choice. He ain't got no skills, no other roads. But one thin' 'bout me father that none can dispute was that Leopold Fox was a force to be reconed wit and I be his son! He tought me all he e'er knew n' wanted tuh know! He bestowed dis ship 'pon me, not you! I be as fit as any bein' to capin' her! Now, 'less ye really be lookin' for a quarell, ye get the five hells out'a me office!" The lynx swiftly turned tail and came upon the cabin doors. Before he left, though, Foxy stopped him. "n' Mister Layton," Layton turned slowly. "take one sniff in dis direction 'gain, n' I'll skin ye alive..." The door slammed gruffly and Foxy felt a wave of reliefe wash over his very soul. The kit could talk like a rabid hound, but wasn't sure his actions could deliver the same bite. Yes, Leopold had been Foxy's adiquite techer, but... Foxy had never actually used his skills... Sparing with his father was one thing. Leopold held back as to not hurt is kit, but Layton was a different beast. The lynx had been in his father's crew sinse he was a kitten, and even back then, Layton was an untrustowrthy thorn in their sides. He'd be a problem.

From his cabin windows, the sea rolled sleepily in the twilight hours. Breakers were near to nonexistant and the sky had yet to fully brighten. This was one of the better views one saw aboard a ship, so far out at sea. There wasn't an object in sight; not a quarell to be antisipated, besides tensions with one's own crew. Foxy leasurly stared through the weathered glass, his fur puffed and scraggled and his eyes dark from exhaustion. He was already a wreck.

"Captain!" barked a familiar voice from beyond his door.

"Yes?" Foxy called back, simply turning his head partially to meet the sound.

"Ship spotted just on the horizon. She's a small one. What should we do?" Foxy sighed. He hadn't done anything of use or note sinse taking command. He hadn't plundered nor murdered, nor even comitted petty theft. He needed something on his reputation, something small to begin with. Something that wouldn't get too much attention, yet was still note-worthy. He turned to the door, straitening his coat. When he opened it, a shepherd stood there, not much older than Foxy, only three years so.

"Sink her."

"Captain? She's only a small merchant vessel."

"Aye, n' me says sink'er. Take 'ny servivors hostage fer ransome." The dog slowly shook his head and turned reluctantly to the crew.

"Plow her over! She's to hit the ocean floor before noon!" He glanced back at Foxy. "I know what you're doing..."

"s'that so?"

"What Leopold did didn't make him memorable... It wasn't his haul, his body count... Remember that..." Foxy gave a rumbling snarl.

"That'll do, Mister Shmitd... To ye station." Mike snorted, climbing up to the wheel and taking post. Foxy walked over to the rail, between two deck cannons. He counted... one... two... three... four... They erupted, each cannon just lightly rocking the ship with their force. "Little late," Foxy mumbled. He peered into the early dawn and watched as the other ship rolled heavily to the side. "But dead-on. Fire again!" one... two... three... They fired again, this time in three seconds as Foxy wished. They'd work on consistantly later. Again, the small merchant ship rolled over, but this time when she rolled back, she continued to slowly tip. She was already doomed. "Hold fire, mates! Take tuh station! Full sail o'er, let's get'er!" There was a conjoined agreement from the rest of the crew. Sweet honey to his ears.

...

A whispy abyss of darkness, eating him alive within its blue-silk ripples... He lashed at it's soft hold, but nothing could pull him from it's strange vice. His heart raced, his lungs screamed for what they couldn't have, what he couldn't reach. He could see nothing through the blurred haze. He tried to fight harder against it, but to no avail. He was sinking lower and lower and his chest burned like all the fires of the five hells. Shadows pulled at the corners of his crystal eyes, slowly eating them... taking him under to never return... a darkness that could not be escaped... Then... release... His head broke the surface of the water and he gasped greedily. The sounds around him were muffled, like there were cotton swabs in his ears, but he saw it all... He saw the fire burning the same as the rising day-break sun... The Moore Runner was up in smoke and inferno. She slowly began to dip below the glassy surface, moaning in her final moments. There was something in his ear, some loud mumble that he couldn't comprehend... It was become clearer. It came again... almost a word... almost... "Freddy!" The scream was sudden and made him wince. "Freddy! Come on cub, look at me! Wake up!" Freddy slowly turned his head to his right. Gerard was tiredly paddling next to him, shoving some object towards him, a barrel. Weakly, Freddy latched on, digging his claws into the worn wood. "That'a boy. Come on, keep your head up." Freddy rested his jaw against the think of the barrel, staring at his father with salt-stung eyes. Gerard looked equally battered, but was managing better off. Freddy wanted to say something, anything... but his voice was lost to the wind. He setteled for grasping Gerard's paw, the one which steered the barrel. He felt his father understood. "I'm alright, son. Just... Hang in there... Don't let go." He wanted to kick out and help his father with whatever task he was trying to accomplish, but he could hardly move... his body was almost numb.

"Gods..." Gerard's voice was almost lost among the groans from the vanishing Moore Runner. He stared before him in an almost muddled stupor. Freddy turned his head slowly to face that which was ahead of them. Promptly, his ears rotated back and eyes grew vast in perplexity. "It's her..." Gerard managed... Freddy desperatly wanted to asked what his father was enunciating about, but couldn't form a word. All he could do was sit and stare at the behemoth that lumbered passed them.


	8. Chapter 7

The solid deck was a deep contrast to the void of ocean. Freddy fell upon it with a damp thump, but wanted, more than anything he'd ever desired, to stand, in spite if his now comfortable solid station. Foot fall scambled about him with harsh voices and some minor whimpers. There was one rather gruff rumble which stung the Grizzly's ears. "Grow up, you blasted bambie!" it yelled and a figure was tossed to the deck out of the corner of his eye. Some powerful grip took Freddy by his forearms and he was powerless to fight against it, but he was suddenly dropped again through the thunder of an unfamilar roar. It sounded savage, loud as a cannon. A shadow loomed over his frame, one hunched, but still powerful. It's uncannyness was stunning, however... The reason it was so strange was that it was... Gerard... The old Grizzly had, long ago, abandoned his strength and savagry with age. He wasn't a fighter by nature, anyway, but now... now he was something Freddy didn't recognize. The pirates tried to approach him again, but Gerard swiftly lashed out with ebony claws.

"Don't you DARE lay paw on him!"

"Easy now, Gramps. Wouldn't want your old bones dulling at the bottom of the ocean, now would we?" The shadows approached again and, as before, Gerard swated them away, hunching lower atop his near-unconcious son. "He's gonna be trouble then." They teetred a bit then stopped stiff. The deck had gone quiet, save for the mueling of other captaves which Freddy could veguely make out. Gerard's growling didn't halt, only growing deeper and blood-boiling still. It was something Freddy still hadn't gotten over.

"Back down, now lad... Be'fer me has'ta hurt'cha both..." A new voice had joined them. Freddy opened his eyes to find a pair of crimson paws near incehs from his muzzle. He slowly dragged his eyes up to the creature's topside features. He was mostly a dark red, but his stomach and uper muzzle were pinkish. He wore brown trousers, A dark red captain's coat with ilnumeral spangles and buckles, a holster on each hip, cradeling a flintlock pistol, and a matching hat. His opulent tail swished irritably from hip-to-hip. His amber eyes bore down on Gerard.

"Like the five hells I will..." Freddy couldn't keep his head up any longer. His chin dropped to the deck with a lesser thump, but that noise was easily forgotten to the bitter cry of a fresh pistol shot. He could feel the shadow slip out from atop him and the weight as a limp form slumped to the deck beside him. His heart sank, near blew up like a powder keg, and his claws twitched. The tips of his pads screamed for the strength to feel for his father... Feel his still working form... Feel his bristly chest yet moving with his breaths. His paw simply twitched towards the form, brushing a stick of fur. Then again, this time meeting hard rib. There was breathing and that was somewhat soothing, but where had Gerard been shot? Where was the blood? None was seeping from him towards the younger, so it was on the other side. "Get that'n upright!" Freddy was forced up and pulled to look up by the scruff atop his head. His met muzzle-to-muzzle with the same young pirate, also captain, of the ship which he'd been taken aboard. His grin was sickening and spotted with golden bits. "Welcome aboard, Laddie, Le Pirata Cala! Me ship! Now, Laddie, if ye be wantin' some care fer ye matey, thar, ye best be doin' s'me says ye be doing, lest ye both end up full'a lead. Savy?"

Freddy was too weak to respond past a snort. "What kinda' response be that, mate? Has ye water in ye ears?"

"No, but I think it might be in his lungs, Captain." The Grizzly didn't care who was speaking. He didn't care about much anything at the moment. He was tired. He was in pain. He wanted out and his relesae was the soft state of unconciosness just beyond a thin threashold. "Look at him, Foxy. Does that look like the proud Ursian's you know? The boy's sick with something nasty. Maybe Doc. Levi needs a call."

"What d'me tells ye, Mike?"

"Judging by the rest of the haul," the voice continued, "He's probably the most valuable you've brought in and you'll let him die of something simple?"

"Mr. Shmitd! Me won't be questioned by ye likes no more!"

"But must you make a bad desicion as well? Foxy, your father'd do it." The captain mumbled in defeat.

"Fine'n. Call Doc. Levi. Tell'm t'check the brig fer two strickin' Ursians. Treat'm both." There was only shadows upon the corners of his eyes and soon nothing but mumbles to his ears.

A cool wash of liquid, sweetly unsalty as Freddy's wanted for quite some time, woke him from his blissful rest which had saved him some grief. Freddy's sense of touch came first. It felt along a rugged floor, wood in most spots but slightly covered in obviosu reed. Then his ears came to. He heard murmers and some soft mumbles as well as scuffling before himself rather close. Heavy breathing was also another burn at his head. Then, finally, there came his sight. He found before him a strange bird, one he'd never seen the likes of, but he hadn't seen much of many types of people. The creature was shrouded in a white robe and was coiling up some rubber tube. Freddy's earlier attempts to speak had rendered him worhtless, but his cracks at it then brough life back to it. It seemed as though a heavy bolt had been lifted from him. "What... is that for...?"

"Mmm-m-m... You're awake. This-This is tubing. I needed it to get the salt water out-out of your lungs. You-you had much, boy. You're very strong-strong to have servived it. Your friend is-is fine as well. He's just as-as resiliant. The ball missed-missed anything vital. Hw shall recover soon. Who is he to you, cub? You look-look muc alike. Family?"

"Yes," Freddy struggled, "He's my... father... Where... where is he?"

"In the cell-cell next to yours. To the right." Freddy had regained enough of his strength to turn his head and found Gerard lain out on beside him through a wall of iron bars. His breathing was labored, but existant, which was enough to quell the younger grizzly's frailness. "You have-have gotten yourself in-into a real prediciment, Ursian. Foxy's bent-bent on things that'll ruin-ruin us all."

Freddy wasn't listening anymore. What the bird had to say peaked no interest of his. Freddy scraped along his stomach until he could press his muzzle to the bars of his cell. "Dad...?" his voice was stronger now, but yet still frail. Gerard's head rolled slightly, but his ears rotated to meet Freddy's voice. "Are you alright?" The older grizzly breathed out.

"Yes... In spite of the pain... Are you...?"

The younger forced a smile. "Yeah..." Freddy's cell door slammed shut and a heavy foot-fall drifted into nothingness. Freddy pressed his muzzle through the bars and sniffed at the other's shoulder. "I'll figure something out..."

"No... Freddy, the worst thing you can do right now is struggle... You'll killl yourself... There are more men aboard this ship than on the island of Solace... Just... please, just wait. Maybe we can work something out with the captain..."

"Are you kidding me? They sunk The Moore Runner. They killed most of the crew. They killed Oslow! What makes you think we can reason with these... butchers?"

"Frederick, no man is without reason or desire. There will be something he wants and we can make a deal. For now, just wait... please... For once, Freddy, do as I say." Freddy pulled his muzzle from the bars and bared his fangs at the older grizzly. He'd have said something, but, he couldn't... Gerard was in no shape to argue and Freddy knew he'd try. For now, he'd do as he was told: wait.

...

"What'll you do with the lessers?" Mike leaned back against the wall, arms crossed and mind buzzing with disapproving messages. Leopold would have ripped Foxy from his hide had he any clue to his son's deliberate cruelty.

"They all be worth somethin' t'slave labor."

"Really? Foxy, this isn't what your father wanted!" Foxy stepped around his desk and stood looming inches taller than the shepherd.

"Me pays n'mind t'what me father wanted! Me does what me wants t'do! Me'll make a name fer meself, greater than me father."

"And what OF your father?"

"Let'm gripe if'n he wants. Can't do nothin t'me now."

"Foxy-"

"Are ye finished, Mister Shmitd? If'n not, then thar be 'nother free cell jus' waitn' fer ye!" Mike's ears went flat. He pushed off the wall and slid from the cabin, leaving Foxy to whatever destruction he wished upon himself.


	9. Chapter 8

Days upon days could have drifted into one another like smeared paint and yet, none could have noticed. The nights were the days and vice versa. Freddy couldn't distinguish much longer after the fifth, though he tried with all his being would allow... Not that it mattered. No one else seemed to care. Freddy did, however. He wasn't entirely sure why, but deep in his stomach, the though of losing track ate away at him like acid. He'd lost track. It was the worst it could have been. Gerard had since recovered, the musket ball now removed from his shoulder and wound stitched. He'd been up and eating on his own as well. Freddy's recovery was slower, but when his full possible strength was at peak, he knew he'd be ready. For what, he was still working out. The cell doors were seldom opened. When they were, it wasn't but some select cells every week. Freddy's had been opened once and was met with fighting, so they didn't open it again for two weeks. That time, Freddy was taken above deck and lined up with some other few. What transpired then was still etched deep into his lobe.

Faces were as expected: afraid and uncertain. The mix in which he'd been mingled was of mostly weaker beings, void of strength or use. There were selections like Freddy who'd been surviving rather well and could live much longer, given the current treatment of the prisoners was consistent in the future. Three burly crew members held muskets tight in their paws and one walked along the line with a simple pistol. She was new to Freddy's eyes. Judging by the expressions of others, she wasn't to them. She was a white-furred canine with a long, luxurious tail and attractive figure, but her muzzle was riddled with horrific scars as well as her exposed arms. Her fur could not grow around the markings and it left her mangled in appearance. She wore a simple white half-shirt and black trousers. She continued her walk about, up and down the line then back again as before, repeated the process. Then, she stopped in front of one, a thinning feline male with dead eyes. She tilted her head left, then right, then left again, before standing, aiming down her sight, and firing point blank. The feline slumped dead within his own shards of brain. The fox walked up and down again. This time, she stopped at a rather healthy looking Crow. His feathers were oily, but his strength seemed constant. Freddy recognized him from the Moore Runner. Despite his obvious health, however, the vixen aimed an fired. The crow lay dead in seconds.

This trend was repeated for quite some time, leaving six others dead, some healthy looking, others not so much. Finally, she waved her paw and the rest were taken back below deck.

Freddy knew he'd be taken out again. He'd seen many go in and out and always come back multiple times. Gerard had come back twice. They'd take him out again, but when they did, he needed a plan, else he'd just walk a dead man. From his cell, Freddy could make out some nets, hanging from the low ceilings. They had kegs of something. Freddy hoped it was powder, though rum was still flammable. Every crew member carried a pistol on their hip and a musket on their back. He needed one. He could get one with the right slip of the paw. He'd need a distraction, however, then something to do once he was out. Where would he go? Freddy looked beside him and saw his father fast asleep on some hay he'd piled up. Would he take Gerard? He shook his head. 'No. I'm not leaving the ship. There's nowhere to go. I'll think of a plan.' The younger grizzly had observed most of the crew and found the majority to be of the thinner likes. He was much stronger than them. He could over power many. His dark fur could also give him an advantage at night. Then, there was the situation with the captain. That fox had to have some skill if he held such a rank among some who seemed stronger and others with scars to prove them battle worthy. He had to be something special. Judging by his thin frame and light paws, he could be a good swordsman, but the creature carried pistols. A sharpshooter maybe, but what could they do at suffocating close range?

The nightshade darkness was mellow cast aside by yellow lamps and flickering flames. Her fur shown dimly in such lighting, but her scars shined like new blood. Foxy had never been fazed by her scars, nor her, in spite of her skill. She was younger than him, smaller slightly, as well. Not to mention kin. "What're the numbers?" he asked. She scratched her breast.

"Thinner by much, cap'in. We're down twelve. Th'rest seem well 'nuff. The old'un be fine, s'well. All'm gonna survive, s'far s'we can tell." The red male twisted a rum-bottle in his paw, staring out his window, or rather at the reflection of himself upon it. Why didn't he like what he saw any better than before? He'd done memorable things... things that could be told as story, yet he still felt a shadow loomed over him... It's size was unimaginable. Why...? Could it just be a goal he would never reach? "What be on ye mind, brother?" Her voice had gone to a soft lull which it only would around him.

"Nothin', lass... Keep'n eye on them. Crew s'well. 'specially Layton. That'n 'll be trouble or me be a Bambi."

"Papa n'er had no trouble out'a him..."

"That's 'cause Layton knew his place with father... Though he hated t'keep it. Do s'I say, fer now, lass. I know me feelins and me feelins be sick 'round that cat." The white vixen nodded, turning tail to her brother.

"If'n that be ye command, Cap'n."

"Vaha..."

"Yessir, Cap'n?"

"Dun be callin' me that, lass. No command'n position be above kin."

"Yessir," She smiles sly. "Cap'n." Foxy smacked his desk, turning his seat full about to bark at the vixen.

"What'n me tells ye!?" he laughs. His sister is out the door long before he can reach the peek of scold. Once she is, he falls back into a sit. His paws ran down his muzzle and he sighed. A map had been lain out on his desk to be glanced over and it has been.. many times. He'd marked places along their voyage and none really struck out. Then, he glances over a previously marked area. It's near one of the Ursian island bays, long from the actual island, but still moderately protected. One of the shoals has a coral reef that cannot be tread by larger ships... It's never been attempted anyway. From there, any single ship could fire at Ursian navel hulls at will. The other sides were protected by island. The thin line which lead in made room for only one ship at a time. Why he'd marked it off before was because of the reef, but now... Now he felt a string tug at his heart... This could be it. If he could get the La Pirata Cala into that shoal, he could encamp and destroy a fleet. This WAS it. This was his call to fame. This what what his father and the entire world would remember him for. "Mr. Shmitd!" The door burst open within moments.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Make sail for the Fairland Islands. When we be in range'f Zeepin, call stop'n wait." Mike's brow rose.

"What are you thinking, Foxy?"

"Me thinkin' that we be about t'make history."


	10. Chapter 9

The night was still... Disturbingly so... It matched a level of unnerving which some could say was almost spiritually haunting. For him, however... it was... Beautiful. It was fear. Fear was beautiful. The waves were scared to roll and the creatures of the world were too stunned by the intrusion of the unknown that they sealed their cries. Fear was power. Fear was influence. Fear was control. To try and control without some fear of consequence was to simply preach to a room of rowdy, undisciplined cubs. It didn't work.

His Ursian Man-o-War, granted by command to him of the Ursian Navel council, had been deemed 'The Lucid Dreamer.' She was a finely -built vessel, one worthy of no navy save for that of Ursius, the most powerful of all forces in the world. He thought so. They'd won every war which had torn the world apart to current. "Admiral Duivel." The voice was meek, nearly a whisper and laced with the sweet aroma of fear, that which he relished with a deep passion. The pitiless black of his irises turned ever slowly from the stern window and glazed the appearance of the creature at his cabin door. It was a chocolate brown finnic with a curled mop of shag about his skull. His ears were rather large, good for those of a look-out and a trust-able crew member. He was dressed in the lavish Ursian Naval uniform, thought not a Ursian himself. Nevertheless, he had long proven himself a reliable ally among them all. The Admiral especially.

"Yes, Mister Fitzgerald?" The Fennic became a slight tinge braver and stepped fully into the center of the cabin, back strait and respectful. The stance came naturally around any high-ranking officer... Any officer save for Admiral Duivel. The Ursian was of a stranger... intimidating sort. It was not his Ursian Naval blue long-coat, spangled in golden accents and medals that shimmered like the stars of his flag. It was not the glorious Man-a-War he commanded, the pride of the Ursian fleet with enough guns to destroy the Island of Lenaus. It was just... him... His irises were deeper than the Marshaw abyss, black and light-less to accompany such, almost to where one could not see the white. His claws gleamed ebony, curved like scythes and sharp like steel blades... And his fur was a deep, partially pearlescent, yellow, gold in appearance. The Fennic could name no other like Admiral Duivel. He was unique, to say the least.

"We've received our orders from Ursius," came Mister Fitzgerald. The Ursian before him clasped his massive paws behind his back and teetered on the heels of his uniform boots.

"And?"

"And the Council has denied your request. They sent with their courier a written message from the chairman himself." The Fennic handed an overly-folded sheet to his superior who took it with an irritable snatch and a seething growl.

"We cannot allow such free range on your part. We have trusted you with many liberties, but this is where a line must be drawn for the sake of our country. By the Gods... What does that old haggard know about the welfare of Ursius? She's powerful in a time of lawful war, but what will she do against an enemy which follows no laws? These bastards aren't going to keep to treaties and parliament! Does he honestly think them capable of reason?"

"Perhaps. You know he has that young adviser at his right often. He's a naive cub, but has quite an influence over the choices of the chairman. He thinks highly of him simply because he thinks that this age is a time of reform. You know how it is, do you not, Admiral? Reform is a result of the ideals of the younger generation."

"But to leave the issue of reform and influence of decision to a cub? I don't like how close they are becoming, either. He might very well go against tradition and elect that little brat to be his successor once he's retired."

"He can do that?"

"He's the chairman of our military forces. He has complete control over such things unless King Gallagher, in his mighty self, steps in, which he won't. Bentley has had Gallagher in his pocket for fifteen years. The bloke is practically untouchable." Admiral Duivel marched to his window once more, paws clenched tightly together and claws jabbing into the padded palms. "That's why the King is blind... He doesn't see why I need to do this!" One paw released the other and slammed in a fist into the wooden wall, just shy of the window's edge. The wood slightly splintered under the force... The grizzly just left his paw resting in the dent he made. "We'll show them..." He let loose a deep breath. "Set a course for Zeeptin. We'll regroup with the rest of our fleet."

"Admiral... The council-"

"Do it, Fitzgerald!" The Fennic jumped and quickly turned to the door, exiting without much more of an argument. Admiral Duivel, however, simply stared back into the eyes of his reflection.

...

It'd taken days... So much labor and aching paws but he'd just about done it... He could have easily been done long before current, but to do so then would have meant trouble. Freddy needed the perfect moment. After some time of watching the crew, Freddy deducted that around midnight, every night, the watch switched. For a breif moment, the hold was empty. It was then that he could take his chance, leave his cell, and figure out the rest of his plan. Granted, not having a full plan did hinder his chances for success... and life, but any risk, so long as he, in the least, tried, was worth it. He thought so, anyway.

The time was slowly approaching and Freddy glanced to his right. Gerard was fast asleep, curled on his mound of straw. His breathing was light and calming, something Freddy found as a small aid for his own nights. The sound of life somewhere near always helped him sleep. He then glanced around the rest of the hold. There were so many empty cells... citizens he'd talked to only weeks before... now gone... cast into the ocean by the butchers who slaughtered them and many prior. Freddy wished he could get some small revenge, but escape came first, rescue second, revenge only if he had the chance. These pirates would pay, though, weather it be by Freddy's paw or the Gods'. They'd do best to pray is was Freddy's. The Gods' were much less forgiving. "Shift!" The bellowing call picked at Freddy's ears and they perked upright to listen. He followed the sounds of each crew member and watched and counted the bodies by the stairway lantern. 1.. 2...3...4...5...6...7...8. Eight watchmen. This was it. The grizzly dug his claw under the lock and, with one swift, powerful jerk, the mechanism became detached and the tumbler swung open. He didn't stop to revel over the small victory. He quickly scurried out and shut the door back, piling some straw by the foot of it to keep it closed. Then, he ducked between cells and cargo crates, moving into the shadows where he was almost certain he was invisible. Then came the next wave of watchmen, eyes fresh and bodies rested. He needn't attract their attention. A quarrel with them, especially in his weaker state, would NOT end well.

Freddy counted again. 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8 There were the eight replacements. Freddy moved slowly, crouched close to the floor, ears back and nose helping him around objects more than his eyes could in such darkness. He smelled gun powder and a deep hickory. The crate before him was such. He slunk behind it and tried to make out figures in the darkness. There were three pirates between him and the stairs. There was plenty of darkness. he could make it to the next deck, at least. Freddy scuttled around the three and to the stairs. There was light on the stairs... Lantern light. He could be seen by it from across the deck. He needn't draw that kind of attention... but there was no other way. He had to rush it. Watching the crew, Freddy waited, counting seconds... steps... His heart beats... They went by like hours... Then there was an opportunity... The two closest to him were occupied with a crying prisoner. He needed to go now. Freddy quickly shuffled up the steps and around a shelf of cargo. He stopped to catch his breath... 'Okay,' he thought. 'That's one deck. This is a Man-o-War. An Ursian style Man-o-War. She has two more decks after this one. Both cannon decks much like this one. The stairs are on opposing walls from each other case, so I can just swing around to head up the next flight... I still have to be careful.'

Freddy peeked around the shelf and found nothing save for an unmanned cannon, thus he shimmied along the shelf and came up to the next flight of stairs. He was quick to ascend then stop once more. 'Oh no...' This floor was purely a cannon deck. There was little else there besides some small cots, unfortunately occupied, and some nets of cannonballs. These nets were hung, however, to ensure that nothing and no one was damaged by them in case of rough seas. There was near to nothing for him to hide behind... And a pirate at the stairs... Not just any pirate, either... It was the shepherd... The First mate, from what Freddy could gather. He wasn't just that, though... Freddy knew him; had for a long time... The history wasn't pretty. 'Damn you, Michael...' Freddy moaned inside his head. This was impossible... What in the five hells was he suppose to do now? Freddy crouched low in a shadow and thought, racked his brain breathlessly for an idea. He did so in such violence that his head even began to ache. He was stressed... Not a good thinker under stress... He clenched his eyes shut, holding in a growl through clenched fangs.

"If I didn't owe you, I'd shoot you..." The low rumble was deep and cold, nearly as cold as the metal barrel pressed to the back of Freddy's neck. "If you're good, I'll escort you back to your cell and Captain Foxy doesn't have to know..." Freddy's crystal eyes bore through the darkness, turning to glare at the dog.

"You know that old bet is worth more than a trip back to my cell... Of course... What's a pirate to honor an honest bet?" Mike scoffed.

"Bets will be honored, promises, unless to the Captain? Not so much. We like our gambling, our betting. We hate to lose a bet, but it's in the better interests of the crew if their honored. How much do you think yours is worth?"

"A certain pirate looking the other way..."

"I can't do that. It's mutiny. I am at good terms with the Captain, but he will not hesitate the shoot me if such conduct is discovered." Freddy dug his claws into the deck.

"Who's to say he'll know? I only want to leave with my father and to do that I need to find a way off this ship. If I get caught, you were taking a break to relieve yourself. No one besides us is here to say otherwise, right?" The pistol remained on him, but now against his forehead.

"You have another gun-deck to climb. Then topside. You won't survive and if you do, the Captain will find suitable punishment for an escapee. You are not a prisoner of war, Frederick. To Foxy, you're livestock... You're product to be exploited and sold. He's not like his father. He'll kill every chance he gets and he'll take anything he can get his paws on. He wants to earn a reputation and is going down the path for the worst kind. I'd be doing you a cruelty if I let you passed me. Take my advice," He pulled back the hammer. "Come back to your cell." Freddy's muzzle was stern.

"Mike, you owe me more than a bet. You owe me years of pain. You owe my mother an apology, something that cannot be given now, seeing as she's gone-"

"Gaia's gone...? How long?"

"Two months and here I am, her grieving son, with her more than so Husband, in the custody of pirates... How much worse do you think it can get? You owe me more... You owe my mother... You owe my father... Look. The other. Way." The gun didn't falter. It remained steadfast to the grizzly's temple. Mike's eyes were much the same, dark brown almost black against the darkness had it not been for the small sliver of candle light. His muzzle was in a veil of darkness...

"You have thirty seconds." Freddy didn't waste any time. He scurried up the stairs and into another bundle of shadow, unseen by any besides the shepherd on the lower deck. Mike felt two different concoctions in his gut; two chemicals which, alone, couldn't do much damage, but together were a lethal poison. As for Freddy, he was already peeking onto the top-deck, seeing no one save for the helmsman who was ever focused on the ocean before him. The grizzly looked up. Past the sails he could make out a feint movement, some outline of the look-out. He wasn't keen on the deck, at the moment. Freddy moved cautiously, getting into the deck and watching the two figures by darting his eyes from the helm to the nest. Helm... nest... helm...nest...

Then white. A flash of white and Freddy found himself sprawled onto the top-deck, a seething ache shooting through his right side. The Helmsman jumped from where Freddy could see him and he was quick to scream into the night, so loud that the Grizzly's ears rang with it's echo. "Escapee!"

"Hush ya yap, Bloke. Dun need ta' wake up th'whole damn crew! This is handled." Freddy glanced back and found a certain female figure looming over him. He attempted to stand, moving quickly, but not quick enough. The vixen swept her paw under his own and he was on his stomach again. "Stop now, lad. Ye's gone hurt ye'self. Ye dun need more pain th'n what ol' Vaha gone do t'ya. Me's hopin' t'have s'much fun wit-"

"No, ye's not gone do nothin' t'him." The second voice sent chills down Freddy's spine like cold steel. He knew who it was... but such a gentle murmur was nothing short of shocking, coming from that which it was. "Take'im t'me quarters. I'll deal wit'the likes'a him." The Vixen gave a disappointed grumble.

"Fine'n." Then... Black...


	11. Chapter 10

uden descended below deck, passing many of his crew who greeted him much like any commoner who saw him, with a simple nod. They weren't the object of his attention, however, nor were they ever unless involved with some mishap about the 'Lucid Dreamer.' Still, he managed to return the gesture as they passed, almost all Ursians and, if they weren't, they were lower class Crewmen. In one paw he managed to balance a small platter of gruel, fit for no living thing... save for... him. He stepped onto the lowest deck, save for the bilge, and gave a passive jerk towards the door, intended to signal the single guard to leave, which he did, accustomed to the routine every two days. That which was nestled in the small compartment below the working decks and even the brig itself was a small space mostly dedicated to cage which reached along the length of the space with ebony iron bars. The the door was a wriggling curve of wrought-iron, curved into a rather light-hearted design, yet, nevertheless, a prison was a prison, no matter it's glamour. Along the floor was settled a rather posh rug, disgraced by the paw-woven designs of the gypsy culture, embedded in hues of gold, emerald, and a royal purple, long since crestfallen due to its use by the muddled people, blue its more fitting replacement among royals. A small, twin bed was settled on Gouden's left, pushed as far into the corner as the ship's curved hull would allow. The blanket was a similar design as the rug, soft in appearance but Gouden liked to fancy that it kindled the fur of pure-bloods like hell-fire did flesh. Monstrosities such as its owner, however, thrived in the unholy. Gypsies themselves were not all in horrible liking to the people. Most were honestly good at their respective trades, but he was not only of a crude minority, but an even cruder still... A disgrace to the Duivel bloodline...

His fur was once a similar shine, so easily akin to Gouden's and justly so. Anyone could easily see a resemblance, yet... None ever did. Hardly anyone even knew of his existence. Wandelen Verlopen had the body of a gypsy peasant, a female rather beautiful, lovely at best, yet nothing in comparison to Gouden's mother, Gezegend; and, still, his father strayed, a horrible sin to one so much less than what he already possessed. Thus, Wandelen was born, a curse upon the Duivel family to be expunged, one which Gouden would much rather rid himself of excruciatingly... However... He felt some small, insignificant pull towards the disgraced muzzle of his partial kin. He had the blessed hide of the family, of course... Thus, it must be slowly taken away before removed completely and Wandelen killed, speared like a proper beast. So, Gouden stowed his 'brother' away, somewhere which he'd never be seen by any who's dare slander his father's name, or his, if rumor did spread in such ways.

Gouden's process was a lengthy one, but working thus far. He kept Wandelen alive, of course, but barely so. As the Ursian approached the cell, the long ears of the spawn turned hind towards the sound of his kin, twitching with each heavy boot that clacked against the wooden deck. "Fáilte ar ais, deartháir," he gargled in the Lenan tongue, though he was not of such blood-line. Gouden could play that game, too.

"Beannachtaí, Beast. Fós beo, féach mé. Ná fret. Beidh a a shocrú luath go leor."

The Gypsy's head lowly twisted back and forth, shaking his stiff, mangy fur loose. "You cannot fix that which is not broken. If you need something to occupy yourself with, however, need you only look in the mirror." Gouden scoffed, kicking the platter under the cell gate.

"I hardly call that entertainment. You shouldn't be so course, though. Don't bite the paw that feeds you, lest I extend the period to three days between meals. I could also reduce your water. I'm sure my crew would much appreciate a little extra in their ration. Anyway, I come today with a little story for you. I've been approved by the council to expunge these waters of any who I deem guilty of piracy or acts against the crown. Would be a true shame if my own kin were among the lot, wouldn't you say, Wandelen? Though, there would need to be someone among my blood who's do something so disciple, wouldn't there? Do you know of any?" The hare spat once across his cell and lifted a small shard from his rug. It had once been a full-length mirror, yet was broken in one of their more destructive bouts. He held it to Gouden's eye level and merely glared, allowing the response to sink it. At it, Gouden's paw was through the bars at tossing the gypsy to the deck, the glass sent flying out of reach in the Ursian's area beyond the cell. "Mr. Dixen!" A white-furred Ursian marched down to the deck, looking Gouden up and down with a respectful nod.

"Yes, Captain Duivel?"

"Did you or did you not hear Mr. Verlopen confess to Piracy?"

"Yes,Sir."

"And did you or did you not hear him confess to conspiracy against the crown, Ursius, and the Subprime Commander of Ursius' Naval power?"

"Yes, Sir."

"What is the penalty for such?"

"Death, Sir. Death by lynching." Gouden's pit-less orbs stared down at Wandelen, meeting his cent-doubloon silver.

"So be it," He mumbled, giving no effort to hide his grin. "It is with a heavy heart that I do sentence Mr. Verlopen to hanging once we return to Ursius." With those words, Gouden turned heel and left, walking up the stairs with a new vigor in his stride. Wandelen could care less. He knew, some day, his brother would take away the last thing he had left to value.


	12. Chapter 11

A great many ships had collected themselves around the Ursian Man-a-War. They were all painted navel blue and gold, hoisting the gold and blue flags of their motherland upon the main-masts. Gouden's ship was the largest of them all, an obvious flag-ship, but unlike most flagships, his was built for opulance as well combat. The Lucid Dreamer was much like one of the Crystal Serpents of Igue; beautiful but deadly. It was an odd pride of his.

The fleet was sailing towards Zeeptin after regrouping and resupplying at the less dangerous of the Fairland islands. Pirates frequented Zeeptin, but never really approached the island due to dangerous formations about the bay. The island itself was incredibly lush within the formations, keeping the habitats within nearly untouched by any outside influence. Many had tried to settle there, but found themselves stranded and assumed dead.

Gouden sat at the desk in his cabin, right paw gripping tight to a quill and scratching at a book of bound parchment. Fitzgerald was sat in a padded chair off of the front of the desk to Gouden's right. He hardly left the bear's side while on excertions such as the current and often saw him writing in the same book when days were slow. He had asked about it before, only to have the response 'It's personal business,' and dropped it. He hadn't asked again and made a point not to push his luck. He knew all too well how such things could lead to very undesireable consiquences.

Learning of Wandelen Verlopen's existance was a good example. He discovered the gypsie by accident during his early days aboard The Lucid Dreamer and found himself asking far too many questions. Plenty of webbed scars tore across his back to remind him of the incident and that silence was his greatest defence. From them on, he and Gouden walked thin-ice together, but there wasn't any stress, more often than not.

After a little over an hour, the honey-hued bear sighed, made a slight attempt to dry the ink, then closed the book and set his quill inside the inkwell before looking up at the fennic. "What have you on your mind, Fitzgerald? I can see that look in your eyes, again." The comment made the fox straiten.

"Nothing important, Sir. Just curiocity, as toxic as it is."

"Towards what?"

"My own matters, sir. I won't let it interfere with my work, sir."

"Your own matters usually do not worry you to a visible point. I have concerns, Fitzgerald."

"I swear, sir, it is of no great issue. My sleep has been recently compromised, but there is no need for concern." His prattling was shrill, in any attempt to deter the Admiral's anger, if any arose. The Ursian remained emotionless, pitless eyes growing no lighter or darker. Fitzgerald felt as though he was being suffocated simply by the gaze. He needed to say something before the silence finished what Gouden's eyes had started. "It's getting near to noon. Should I prepare some food for the creature?" He'd been taught to call the gypsie that very aggressively.

"Yes..." he breathed, turning to look out the cabin window. "Only scraps and one half a cup of water. Ask Sargent Laster to take it to him, however. I wish to speak with you more." Fitzgerald's heart sank. If Gouden wished to speak with him personally, then there would, most likely, be pain.

"Yes, Admiral. Right away."

Shortly after speaking with the crew member in question, Fitzgerald returned to Gouden's cabin and sat fraily in the seat he had taken prior. Admiral Duivel remained at his desk, but with nothing occupying him. He simply watched him. A few moments passed in silence... Grueling, horrifying silence... His heart was beating so fast...

"Mister Fitzgerald, you are well aware that I must keep order on my ship. To do that, I must go to great lengths, one of which is keeping certain thoughts and distractions at bay. Something is bothering you and it is something I must put to rest. Tell me what is on your mind. Make this easy on both of us." The fennic knew better than to lie, but he'd done so already, which the Admiral must've already been aware of, or he hadn't and was trying to confirm suspicion.

"Well, sir..." He needed to lie. His actual thoughts would be called mutany. "I've been feeling ill. I have certain symptoms that relate to a serious condition, but then others that seem unrelated but started at the same time. I'm not sure if to wait it out or seek treatment. If I do, it could be nothing and a waste of time, or, if I don't, I could be seriously ill and could die. I lose sleep over the paranoia." Such a thing HAD happened to him before, somewhere in his teen years. The Admiral tilted his head, emotionless still, his eyes blank as they studied him.

"Better to be safe than sorry, Fitzgerald. Pressuring youself with paranoia is more a hinderence on yourwork than it is worth. Go see the doctor then get back to work." The fennic stood with a nod, trying to hold back his shaking.

"Yes, Admiral. Right away." He turned to exit the cabin.

"And Fitzgerald..." He stopped, paw rested on the door. "It's better to offer no excuse than a bad one." A shaking paw rattled the door as it pulled it open and the fennic scurried out onto the deck, lungs leaping from his chest and body near close to collapse.


	13. Chapter 12

It was the way of a good father to worry. Leopold was far from a good father, but he'd, at least, worry. He'd liked to say that his worry was in spite of having a little faith. He did have faith in Foxy. The kit was a talented sailor, but Leopold was worrisome in the thought that his morals may not have been heavily instilled in his son. Sitting at his desk within his study, surrounded by walls of a deep, earthy red and book-cases widdled with grand, swooping designs that reached the ceiling, the Lenan wondered and worried in silence, only broken by the tapping of his claws against a glass bottle of mead.

There was a window before the desk that acted as a gate-way into the garden of his estate, which was looking rather dead as of late. The only flowers that seemed to be defying that year's curse were the Igue Lilies. That was a bad omen. The red of the flowers represented the shed blood of the innocent and the black of the thorns did the touch of Bas, the demon of pain. The flowers were mentioned many times in ancient texts and images of them had been considered cursed since the days of anarchy, yet most with gardens grew them out of superstition. They considered them the best means of predicting tragedies. As Leopold could remember, they bloomed in spite of poor growing conditions months before the War of Starvation broke out thirty years prior.

Pirates were an odd sort when it came to superstitions. Many of them weren't taken to heart such as stepping onto a ship with one's right paw first or the long abandoned practice of keeping females off of the ships due to the idea that they were bad luck, but many others that most took seriously didn't seem to faze the creatures. Leopold saw them all as oddities, superstition just being a window to paranoia that would put one in their grave from stress. Leopold didn't need superstition for stress. He simply needed children. True, Foxy and Vaha were no longer children, but they were still his offspring and worried the Lenan to no end, even when they weren't undergoing questionable ventures. Now, both of his young were pirates, left in charge of one of the most valuable items ever owned in their bloodline. This was stress at its most lethal. This was stress from worry. Perhaps he wasn't as bad a father as he thought.

The Lenan stood from his chair, letting the squeal of the legs break the silence rudely before he broke from the solitary comfort of his study into the parlor. His wife was sat upon the sofa, book in paw and posture dictating her attempt at seeming calm a failure. The vixen was a soft, off-white, stomach, and muzzle a pretty blush. That day's dress was a simple, silver sun-gown that tied about her waist with a large bow in the rear. It was a simple thing, comfortable and lovely on her figure. As aged as they both were, she wore the years better. Vevina would be beautiful until the day she died, inside and out. She was worth the trouble it took to impress her and then some by miles. She could be overbearing, loud, a little naive, but she was quick-witted, considerate, strong both mentally and physically, and stubborn in the best way. She needed to be to deal with him. Sometimes a kick in the rump was all he needed to get a demon out of him on his worst mornings.

Leopold slowly shambled over to her, sitting himself down to her right and pressing a soft paw between her shoulder-blades. "The lilies are blooming, love," he said quietly. Gradually, Vevina lowered the book, closing it slowly and setting it down on the table. Leopold recognized the cover. 'The Voyages of the Trident Bloom' by a Lenan named Ricardo Falstar. It was a novel written on the endeavors of a fictional pirate and his ship, The Trident Bloom. Leopold owned it out of humor. Not a more misleading and over romanticized representation of pirates ever existed, but it was romance and tender hearts that won the minds of any reader, even one who knew better. Vevina was the ladder.

"Aye... Me noticed... N' th'roses have died, n' th'grapes have died, n' th'trees be dyin', too. Me noticed." Her voice was so grim and distant.

"Yes, I was sure you'd notice." He moved to wrap his arms around the female and embraced her tenderly, rocking her slowly to and fro. "You shouldn't hold so tightly to those myths, my dear. They ruin your nerves. Our kits are fine, love. They're strong. No 'ill-omen' from the gods is going to harm them. I promise." Vevina shook her head. Her ears fell to the sides of her head.

"Ye shouldn't dismiss th'Gods so bluntly, love. They move people in th'greatest 'a ways 'n the worst'a ways. They'll curse our chil'en on ye."

"I do not dismiss them, Vevina. I simply say that this omen could be anything, if a message from the Gods at all. Ursius is plunging the world into debt, people are in unrest everywhere, another war could break out, but our children are the least of the world's worries. It's minuscule compared to the bigger chaos brewing around us. This island is one of the purest examples."

"Have ye forgotten who ye gave yer ship to, Leopold? That be yer son, out thar n' who is yer son most like? I ain't seen ye if that ain't the closest any being ever gonna come to bein' you 'cept you. Me remembers yer early days, Leopold, when ye'd bring me flowers and plundered jewels bef'er goin' out fer more flowers and plundered jewels. Yer youth was reckless as a hurricane n' ye hurt so many people. Yer youth is what filled you wit' all that regret n' stuck ye so well to those morals. Foxy ain't had that yet. He'll make them same mistakes."

"Vevina, I have taught that kit well. I lectured him near to death on those old stories and I'm sure they scared him out of doing half the things I did."

"Aye, but he ain't yer son if he ain't do one'a those things. Ye best pray it ain't one'a the worst." The amount of truth in those words nearly hurt, cut his flesh like a new saber. Foxy was... Foxy... Leopold's son and surely as headstrong and full of himself as Leopold had been. One couldn't lecture youth out of a youth. Foxy would make mistakes and do things he'd long regret, and Leopold **did** pray that those regrets wouldn't walk the lines of murder or worse crimes that even Leopold never committed, but what all did praying and hoping bring but more stress? What all did superstition and worry bring but more hoping and praying?

The mind was a cycle and having children began it a new. Leopold was sure his own father would've done the same had he given a greater heart for his many children, but it was Ferdinand that put Leopold in his position to begin with. At least he set the example bad enough to steer Leopold onto a better road when the time came... That and... That Ursian ship twenty years ago.

He'd forgotten the name of the ship entirely, but he'd never forget Gerard. The grizzly was no more a better father than he was, but that was quite the blessing. They had helped one another for a good long while after parting. One's problems helped another learn, though Leopold doubted that Gerard's son was a pirate. The cub was probably a fisherman, like his father.

"We tried, Vevina. We have to let them go at some point. Parents are good teachers, but life is a better one. We are only to prepare them for the more advanced lessons."

Vevina picked up her book once more, but she didn't open it. She only stroked the cover with her right paw. When she spoke, her voice was almost inaudible. "I ain't no teacher, Leopold. I dun wanna be their teacher. I wanna be their mother."

"I know, my love, but we must do as life demands of us." There was no further response, the vixen only continuing to run her paw-pads over the leather binds of her novel, nearly half complete. With that, the Lenan stood from the sofa and gently stroked his wife's ears as he walked around towards the foyer, aiming to make a trip to the market for some more paper and drink. "Breathe in this moment, my dear. Breathe in the quiet. Find you a moment to pray. Our children will be alright."

* * *

The streets of his city were no better then than they ever had been. Worse, in fact. They were filth-ridden and in shambles from either the laziness or poorness of their care-takers. He was used to it. He didn't like it, nor did he accept it, but he was used to it. If it were in his power, he'd give all he could to restore his island, but even **he** had found himself in the rough, the pasture being a land so far distant from his reach. Leopold strode along said streets, paws buried in his coat pockets as he watched the citizens saunter passed, half in drunken stupors. Again, he was used to it.

After some time, Leopold turned into a small shop, left on its own after the little, wooden buildings around it were left to waste away. The inside was moderately well kept. The paint on the walls was still a decent shade of sand and the brick floors remained polished, though a bit dirty as he felt particles under his bare paws. Three small shelves were settled in the middle of the floor before the counter where the shop keep, a brightly colored cardinal in rags, sat boredly. Upon Leopold's entering, however, he sat up stiff as a mast. "G'd evenin' m'Lord. Be thar somethin' ye require?" The Fox stood in silence for but a moment, almost forgetting why he'd come to the shop to begin with. The things that slipped his mind in those times irritated him to no end. At least it wasn't anything important.

"I... I need paper. Yes, that was it. Paper and some drink. I ran out. I can find the paper on my own, but what have you in terms of alcohol?"

The Cardinal scratched his chin momentarily before ducking and grabbing a book out from a shelf below the counter. He flipped through it swiftly before landing on that which he sought and pressed a feather to the page. "We have some Ursian whisky, a few bottles of Lenan rum and brandy, many variations of whine, and a couple of bottles of Fatheranise champagne."

It didn't take him a second. "A bottle of Lenan Rum and three of Ursian whisky." As the keeper retreated to grab the drinks, Leopold grabbed a reasonable stack of parchment and laid it upon the counter. While he waited, a couple of citizens walked in from the street and stood behind him. One of them was a red fox, coat more a ginger than actual red, and the other was a black-bear. They were both dressed in miserable shrouds. They were locked in conversation as deep as the smell of cheap drink on their breath. He tried not to pay much heed, but curse him as a pirate if he wasn't a little nosy.

"Ursius' havin' a rough time dealin' wit' them pirate types," said the fox, a slur tearing his voice apart.

"Lotta 'em popin' up. ny' one'd have trouble wit' 'em. They jus' target them rich blokes 'n thar little poppets."

"Poppets? Ain't ye sayin' they'd grab them too, are ye?"

"Fer ransom, aye. Them pirates r' as ruthless as savages." The urge to pop the bear in the snout was hard to quell in Leopold. The only thing that staved it were the creature's next sentences. "Me heard that'a lil' merchant sloop was seen sunk by a Man-a-War not too far from th' Fairland outpost. She was as red as th' sea is salty and carved like one'a them Ursian ones. Must'a been stolen. They say she sunk th' lil' dingy wit'out a second thought. Killed e'ryone."

Leopold hid the sinking in his heart through expression, but could not stop his paw from balling into a fist. Suddenly, he had lost his taste for alcohol.


End file.
